Harry Potter and The Stand
by RH4L
Summary: What will happen to Harry and the forces of good when Voldemort discovers a way to kill off all the muggles on the face of the planet? With little left to fight for, will they muster the courage needed to win? Full Summary inside. HP:The Stand Crossover!
1. Prologue

SUMMARY: The war against Voldemort had always looked bleak, but when he discovers a way to eliminate muggles on an unimaginable scale, the horror left behind for the wizarding world is….unimaginable. With what seems little left to fight for, can Harry and the light fend off evil, or will the world be plunged completely into darkness? Folks, this is a Harry Potter/The Stand crossover. The idea struck me this morning, and by god, sent a shiver through my spine at how cool this story could actually be. The big change in this story is that the man behind the planting of the horrible disease is Voldemort, not the Crimson King (all you Dark Tower fans out there know who I'm talking about). Some things will be changed from Stephen King's story, but I will give my utmost effort to stay as close to the story as possible. While I will give my greatest effort to make it so that those who have not read The Stand will still be able to follow the story, I would still suggest you read it, if only for the reason that it is my personal favorite, and one of the best pieces of fictional writing in the 20th century. WRT Harry Potter universe, this story is canon through the end of fifth year, and from there, is definitely AU. Now, as they say, on with the show!

DISCLAIMER: I am not profiting from this story in any way, and only the plot is mine in the first place.

POST DATE: September 29, 2007

**PROLOGUE**

**June 16, 1996: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Removing his glasses with one hand, while simultaneously rubbing his dry, tired eyes with the other, Albus Dumbledore patiently responded, "Minerva, as I have already mentioned to you, he simply will not do it. Mr. Sampson, along with all other candidates for the position that we have been able to dig up thus far, heavily believes in the idea that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is cursed. I'm afraid, my friend, that the time may have finally come to consider an…inside source to fill the requirements."

With a look of shock on her face, Minerva McGonagall found her voice after a few seconds and replied, "Albus, you cannot mean…there has to be another solution. There just has to be. You know my feelings on this, Albus, and I.will.not.back.down. I do not trust that man, even if you see fit to do so."

"Calm down, calm down. Here, have a sherbert lemon, they always do wonders for my nerves, and are refreshingly tasty, to boot," he said, flashing his ever famous twinkling eyes at her, as he handed a small dish to the rather agitated woman. Waiting until she begrudgingly took one of the small hard candies, he placed the small dish back on his desk and continued. "It is just a suggestion. I fear, however, that soon, our feelings on this subject will become inconsequential. If we cannot find someone to fill the vacated post soon, once again, the ministry may see fit to fill the position for us, and we cannot afford the time to deal with another Delores Umbridge, I'm sure you of all people would agree."

Scrunching up her nose in disgust, McGonagall spat back, "Of course not, Albus. I simply cannot believe that there is not another solution. The term only ended a short while ago, there is still plenty of time…Albus, are you feeling well?"

"What? Oh, yes, yes, alright, just a little light headed there for a moment. Now, of course…well…that is…my, but I suddenly feel sooooooo tiiiiiirrrrreed," he slurred out these last few words as his head lolled about, seemingly out of control.

Suddenly startled, McGonagall jumped from her seat. "Albus! What's wrong? Should I get Poppy?"

"Yes, Minerva, I suspect that woulllllddd beeeeee thhhhh…" He did not finish his sentence, however, as his head ducked to the right one last time before he slid from his chair to the floor with a soft "fwump". With an edge of panic to her actions, McGonagall quickly checked for a pulse, and, once feeling a strong one, levitated his limp body and began guiding him to the hospital wing as quickly as she could.

* * *

Opening his eyes, Albus Dumbledore found himself to be experiencing a state of mind that he was not accustomed to be associated with. He was completely dumbfounded. He was in an area that he was nowhere near familiar to, and yet, while he should be feeling fear and apprehension, instead the greatest emotion running through him at the current time seemed to be…contentment?

Taking in his surroundings, he could see that, wherever he was, it was nighttime, and he appeared to standing in the middle of a rather large corn field. Perking up his ears slightly, he thought he could hear the faint musings of a guitar floating along the wind to him, and decided that he should search out this sound to its source.

After a couple minutes walking, mainly do to the irritation of the corn surrounding him rather than distance, he peered through the few remaining stalks to witness a surprising site. Before him, sitting upon a rickety rocking chair outside of an even more rickety-looking shanty of a home, sat a very small, very old, black woman playing guitar and singing a song that he was unfamiliar with. Though her playing was slightly out of tune, and her singing left something to be desired, Albus was still captivated by her performance.

"_Jesus loves the little children,  
All the little children of the world.  
Red and yellow, black and white,  
They are precious in his sight,  
Jesus loves the little children of the world."_

Finishing her song, the woman slowly set down her guitar on the table beside her and reached for a cane, then stood up, albeit with a decent amount of effort. Suddenly, turning a smile in his direction, she called out, "You don' need ta be a hidin', ya know. I know ya's there. Why don' you come on a little closer A'bus, so's you and me can have a talk? I promise, I won' bite ya!" After this last bit, she giggled for a while to herself.

Feeling slightly embarrassed at being caught, Albus quickly moved forward out of the last of the corn stalks, casually making sure his wand was ready if he needed it. Adopting what he hoped was a charming smile, he then greeted the woman. "Pardon my rudeness, Madam, but it seems you have me at a slight disadvantage. I do not believe I caught your name?" he questioned, reaching the base of her porch, but making no effort to move forward from there.

"Please, chil', firs' thing you can do is put a stop ta all this 'Madam' bidness." At this she giggled once again. Seeing the questioning look on his face, she quickly continued, "Oh, I's just thinkin' that maybe, for the firs' time in a long time, I've met someone who should be callin' me chil'?" She giggled a few more times before continuing. "Folks 'roun' here call me Mother Abigail. I reckon I'm the oldest person 'roun' these here parts, but I don' let that slow me down too much now. I still make ma own biscuits! Can still pick me some guitar, too, although the rheumatiz's got ma fingers so bad I can' hit all the cords na more." Finishing, she smiled triumphantly.

'Why do I feel so comfortable around this woman?' Albus thought to himself as he chuckled at her enthusiasm. Pushing that to the side, he said, "Well, Mother Abigail, it is a pleasure to meet you. Now, since I'm guessing that you are the person who brought me _here_, I was hoping that you could tell me what my purpose _here_ is?"

"Oh, no, chil', no. I wasn' who brought ya hear, Lord Jesus no. I'm jus' a messenger, chil'. No, the Lord's the one who brought you here, an' Amen fo' that, tha's fo' sho'!" Changing the subject then, she said, "I's not like you, ya know. No, tell the truth, I's didn' even know they was people like you. My, oh my, but the Lord does work in strange ways. But now's not the time to be reminiscin', chil', for the devil, he's a comin'. He's a comin', and they ain't nobody can stop 'im!"

At this last part, Albus suddenly grew cold, a strange nervousness wracking his body. Looking up to the old woman for reassurance, he spoke, "Is it Voldemort you speak of? Is there really nothing that can be done?" He didn't know why exactly he thought he could get any real information from this woman, but it just seemed right, somehow.

"Now tha's not fo' me ta say, A'bus. An' I won' be a speakin' that devil's name, either. But here's wha' I can tell ya. They's a storm on the brew, a might powerful storm indeed. A storm tha's startin' out righ' here in the good ol' US of A, but i's gonna touch the whole worl', an' the only suvivas is gonna be the kin' like you. Now don' you go frettin' tryin' ta change it, the wheel's already rollin' down the hill, A'bus. Jus' understan', this storm IS COMING, and right soon, too. Ya need ta be prepared, A'bus, 'cause when the storm passes, you an' all ya kind are all tha's gonna be lef' ta stand up to 'im. An' when that time comes, you need to be ready, Lords yes."

Cold water now felt as though it was running freely down Albus' spine, and with trepidation, he asked, "But what can we do, Mother Abigail? Now that I know, where do I go from here?"

Laughing outright, she turned her loving smile upon him and responded, "Don' worry, chil', when the time comes, you'll know what ta do. Fa now, just remember wha' I said, an' protect those you can. I 'spose you and yaws'll be hearin' from me sooner 'n ya think, Lord willin'. 'Til then, A'bus, remember, take care 'a you an' yaws."

* * *

At this last, the old woman smiled one last time, then slowly walked into her house. Meaning to follow, Albus was surprised when he found he couldn't move his legs. Panic finally starting to grip him, he began attempting to thrash about to free himself, but the harder he worked, the more he found he couldn't move at all. Closing his eyes in concentration, the world seemed to black out for a moment, then he quickly recovered his senses. Opening his eyes, however, he found he was no longer outside of a cornfield, but rather he was laying on a bed in Hogwarts' own hospital wing, with a rather fear filled Minerva McGonagall leaning over him.

"Albus! Can you hear me? Are you alright? Poppy says you were just asleep, but we couldn't wake you!"

Sitting up quickly, remembering the dream he had just had, he quickly sat up, all the blood draining from his face. "Minerva," he said, grabbing her shoulders firmly, "We must call an order meeting. It has to be tonight. I need for everyone, and I mean EVERYONE to be there. That list includes Harry, by the way."

"Albus, surely you must have hurt your head somewhere. How am I to schedule a meeting of _the entire_ order this evening when it is already," here she paused to look at the clock in the hospital wing, "five in the afternoon? And, Albus, why do you look as though you just saw the end of the world?" she questioned, taking in his pasty complexion and worried eyes.

"Minerva, old friend, this meeting _must_ take place, and soon. I don't really care how it is organized, just that it does happen. Use all resources at your disposal, have any teachers necessary help you, for this takes precedence OVER ALL ELSE. As for your second question, if the vision I just had was true, Minerva, I believe I may have just been informed that the end of the world is coming soon." His voice slowly died out as he was speaking, so that the last few words out of his mouth were nothing but a whisper.

Though she may not have wanted to, McGonagall heard every word he said, and could tell by the look of him that he was dead serious. Standing quickly and speaking, a slight falter in her voice, she said to him, "I will begin at once. I will report back to you when everything is ready. Is there anything you wish for me to tell everyone?"

"Yes, tell them that our plans may be greatly changed. Greatly changed indeed."

* * *

"Flagg, is everything in order?" spoke the high pitched, irritating voice of the Dark Lord. Before him was a thick ball of smoke, the image of a man displayed upon it. The man had shoulder length brown hair, wore plain clothes, a T-shirt with worn denim jeans and even more worn leather cowboy boots. The only thing that seemed out of the ordinary about this man was his eyes, which, to anybody other than the being he was currently speaking with, seemed frightfully penetrating, as though they could see every secret you might wish to hide.

"Indeed, my Lord, as we speak, the fool guard is running for his life. He definitely has been infected, and should soon make contact with others, thus starting the chain reaction."

"Very good, very good indeed, Randall. I can see now that I've trusted the right man to take care of my…American business proposition. Tell me, how long?"

"All things considered, there should be heavy damage done by the end of this month, worldwide infection no later than mid-July, my Lord. By the end of summer, muggles should be nothing more than a memory for this planet." As he finished, a terrifying smirk of accomplishment spread across his face, and even the other Death Eaters in the room had to avert their eyes in fear.

"Very well, I am highly pleased by this, Randall, I assure you. As planned, I and my troops shall be joining you in two days time. From there, I will leave you the responsibility of raising my army. Do you have any questions of me on this?" he asked, although his tone of voice recommended that Flagg had better not.

"Of course not, my Lord, I have everything here well under control. Once the disease begins to take its hold, I shall begin contacting and drawing those who will be yours to command."

"Good. Oh, and Randall? I have given you your current position as a reward for your outstanding service, but remember that while I reward success, I also heavily punish failure. So do not fail me, is that understood?"

Looking slightly on edge, Flagg responded, "Of course my Lord, I shall not fail you now or ever."

With a wave of his hand, the smoke in front of him dissipated, destroying the image of Flagg. Turning to his room full of followers, Voldemort smiled wickedly before announcing, "My good men, my plan is swiftly becoming a great success!! In mere a mere month's time, the world shall be rid of muggles, and the world shall be ours for the taking."

At this, he was interrupted. "My Lord, I cheer our success along with you, however, I must ask, how do we know that we shall be unaffected by the disease? And for that matter, how do we know that the entire population of muggles will be affected?" the man asked, a slight disbelief in his voice.

Turning his smile upon the questioning man, Voldemort responded, "Dolohov, my friend, it is good that you ask questions, as that is the only way to find true solutions, no? Here's a reward for your curiosity," and with that, he quickly brandished his wand pointing it at the man's heart before shouting, "Avada Kedavra!!" The man instantly crumpled to the floor, a look of surprise left on his dead face.

Turning to the rest of the room, the Dark Lord hissed out in a barely audible voice, "Is there anyone else who wishes to question my plans? I'll take your silence as a no. Very well then, we must begin preparing at once. In two days time, all Death Eaters on any of the British Isles shall accompany me to the city of Las Vegas, in the United States. From there we shall watch as the world of muggles burns to the ground, and then we shall claim what is ours once and for all!" At this, the room shouted its approval. "Now, are there any questions as to responsibilities? No? Good, then be gone!"

As the men in the room began scurrying away, Voldemort re-took his seat upon his throne, smiling maliciously at his incredible success. 'See, Potter, I don't need to kill you to take over the world.' He thought through the connection that he and the boy shared. He began laughing maniacally.

* * *

A/N: Well, there it is, just a prologue, remember. I must reiterate how excited I am to be writing this story. I just hope I don't butcher The Stand too badly in the process. I've read the book several times, and have a copy here with me for research, however, it is just such a large story, I'm pretty sure I'm bound to miss something. If you guys see anything, let me know, and I'll try and correct it. Anyways, if you like it, review. If you don't like it, review. If you think it's stupid and that I'm a tosser, REVIEW!!

Cheers!!


	2. Tough Meetings and Gruesome Decisions

DISCLAIMER: I am not profiting from this story in any way, and only the plot is mine in the first place.

POST DATE: October 2, 2007

**CHAPTER 1: Tough Meetings and Gruesome Decisions**

"See Potter, I don't need to kill you to take over the world."

At the conclusion of this horrifying statement, Harry woke suddenly, grasping at his scar, the echoing laughter of his maniacal arch enemy still ringing in his ears. Slowly, the pain began to subside, and Harry attempted to make sense of what had just happened to him.

This was the first connection Harry had had with Voldemort since directly before he and his friends were tricked into traveling to the Department of Mysteries before the end of the term. Thinking of that fiasco inevitably led Harry to thinking of his feelings of loss for his Godfather, feelings which, thus far, he had gone to great lengths to suppress.

Deciding that he still did not wish to deal with such feelings, he quickly shoved all thoughts of Sirius out of his mind, focusing on what had just happened to him. He had laid down for a nap, something he had become accustomed to over the past couple days with the Dursleys, seeing as how he really did not have much other option for activities. All was going well, as well as an afternoon snooze could be expected anyways, until the abrupt and extremely painful vision took him over. What seemed most odd, and potentially most important, about this particular vision was that in the end, Voldemort not only made it clear that he was aware that Harry was watching, but he also seemed happy that he was doing so.

As Harry concentrated, desperate to try to remember any potentially important details, he could feel the memories of his encounter slipping through his fingers like water. By the time he had become fully awake, all he could remember was the final sentence Voldemort had directed at him, and a strange vision of a figure wearing worn jeans and dusty American-style cowboy boots, and possessing a pair of the most frightening eyes he had ever seen.

Ignoring his initial impulse to act immediately, for he could remember only too well what happened when he acted on impulse alone, Harry rose from his small, lumpy bed and walked across his room to take up a seat at his desk. 'This time, I'll do the right thing and tell somebody. Obviously, counting on other people's decisions,' he thought, 'is a better option than counting on my own.' With this thought in mind, he addressed his letter to Professor Dumbledore and began to write.

* * *

Just as he was sealing his letter and preparing to tie it to Hedwig's leg, Harry heard a knock at the downstairs door. He found it odd that whoever it was had knocked rather than simply used the bell; however, he shrugged it off and continued with his endeavor. Not five seconds after releasing Hedwig from his bedroom window, though, he heard a slightly muffled stumbling noise down the hall, followed by a less muffled "Damn it!" from a very recognizable, if not exasperated, female voice.

Wondering what Tonks could be doing her and why she was knocking on the front door of all things when she could simply apparate to his bedroom avoiding the Dursleys all together, an option Harry had long wished he could partake in, Harry decided to surprise the overly-cheerful aurer. Rushing to the door, he quickly opened to witness a severely shocked Tonks with her hand raised pre-knock.

Quickly regaining her composure, a smile found its way to her face as she greeted Harry in her standard way. "Wotcher, Harry! Boy do I have some great news for you. In fact, I think there's a _distinct possibility_ that I may just be about to make your summer, if not your year!"

Surprised at her massive amount of exuberance, as well as intrigued by her words, he poked his head out the door, looked both ways, and then replied, "Hey, Tonks! Well, then, come in, come in, and let's hear this great news."

As Tonks entered his room, Harry watched her eyes as they traveled the small expanse, taking in his few, somewhat shabby looking possessions. As he watched, he saw her eyes come to rest on a framed picture of Sirius that he kept on his bedside table, right next to his picture of his parents. Unexplained anger began to rise in him as he witnessed all the happiness and exuberance that had seemed to be in surplus only seconds ago instantly drain from her face. Slowly, she turned her head to face him.

"Harry, how've you been feel-"

Seeing where she was going, he quickly interrupted, "Sorry, Tonks, but I don't want to talk about that right now."

"But, Harry, it's not healthy to keep all this bottled-"

"Please, Tonks, I DON'T want to talk about it," he said through gritted teeth.

"Alright, it's just that-"

Seeing that she simply was not getting the point, he finally shouted at her, "WE.WILL.NOT.TALK.ABOUT.THIS.NOW!!" Lowering his voice, he continued with a stony expression, "Now, unless you have something else to discuss, I'll kindly ask you to leave."

Holding up her hands in mock surrender, she finally sputtered out, "OK, a-alright. Message received loud and clear." After taking a moment to compose herself, Harry could see that her initial message for him must have come back to mind, for her previous smile almost instantaneously reappeared. "Like I said before, I have incredibly happy news for you anyways. Pack your bags, baby, cause we're blowin' this Popsicle stand!"

Feeling incredibly hopeful, Harry still held himself in check until he could confirm what he thought he had just heard. "I'm already leaving for the summer? But I've only been here for a couple days. How can this be?" he asked the aurer, who currently seemed much more excited about his good news than he was.

"To be honest, I have no idea, but, really, does it matter? All I know is Dumbledore contacted me at Mrs. Figg's ten minutes ago and gave me a portkey to Grimmauld place, telling me that I have half an hour to get you and your possessions to headquarters! Ah, but it gets better! Not only are you to come to headquarters, I have been instructed to inform you to make your final goodbyes, 'cause you ain't comin' back!" With that, she raised what appeared to be a Plexiglas paperweight with an insect-looking creature he had never seen before in its center.

"You're serious? I mean, you really…I…no…Dursleys?" No longer able to speak and shaking with growing excitement, Harry lost control of himself as he raced forward and folded the surprised young woman into a bone-crushing embrace, lifting her feet from the floor and swinging her around in circles while firmly planting his lips to hers in a very intimate kiss.

Finally coming to his senses, and seeing that he was currently snogging his bodyguard, Harry set her down so fast she almost fell to the ground before stepping back a couple steps, tripping over the corner of his bed in the process. Attempting to apologize for his forwardness, he managed to sputter, "Er, um, sorry. I-I d-didn't mean-"

Panting heavily, Tonks cut him off, saying, "It's alright, Harry, it was _very_ exciting news, after all." Her face suddenly taking on a mischievous smile, she smirked, "Wow, Harry, I had no idea you were such a great kisser! I used to think you were a little too young for me, but, a couple more of those an' you an' I might just be sharing your toothbrush tomorrow morning!"

His face now blushing deep burgundy, Harry's eyes dove straight for the floor before he responded, "Oh, stop it. You're just trying to embarrass me, now."

Reaching up and patting him on the shoulder, she said warmly, "Sorry, Harry, I just couldn't resist. You understand, I'm sure. Anyways, we really can't afford to waste any more time, the portkey fires off in fifteen minutes. I'll go downstairs and wait with your _ever so charming_ relatives while you pack. When you're done, come down, say your final piece, then we'll use the portkey from here in your room." Finished, she turned to leave. At the door, she turned back and smiled warmly before saying, "Oh, and Harry? I wasn't kidding about the 'great kisser' part. Excellent stuff, really!!" and with a wink, she disappeared from his room down the hall.

The surprise of the moment finally draining from him, Harry quickly set about the task of packing, which really wasn't much of a task at all, as he had only been here a couple days and therefore had little of his belongings outside of his trunk to begin with. "Merlin, I can't believe my luck! Not only do I get to leave, but I don't even have to go back next year!" Harry said to the empty room, paying no regard to the small part of his brain that was asking why exactly such good graces should be bestowed upon him right now.

* * *

Five minutes later, his packing done, Harry placed his trunk and Hedwig's cage in the center of the room so that they would be ready for his and Tonks return, then he made his way downstairs.

The scene before him was comical to the point that Harry found it difficult to keep his laughter at bay. Entering the living room, he saw all three Dursleys pinned to the side opposite then entrance, attempting with a great lack of success to merge themselves into the wall. Looking to his right, he saw a heavily smirking Tonks standing a couple meters away with her arms crossed, smirking heavily. At first unable to understand the situation, Harry almost fell down laughing when he saw first Tonks change the color of her hair, then the Dursleys flinch dramatically. "Having fun?" he asked. Her smirk only deepened.

Finally noticing that his good-for-nothing nephew had entered the room, Vernon attempted to regain some of his composure as he shouted, "BOY!! What is the meaning of this…this…FREAK coming to my house? It hasn't even been three days yet! Now you'd better tell this _thing_ that we've done nothing to you and get it out at once!"

Feeling his blood boil, Harry stepped in front of his uncle, taking on a menacing look before muttering in a tone that even brought a little fear to Tonks, "Vernon, I want you to listen to me, and listen to me good. DO.NOT.INSULT.MY.FRIENDS. It is a mistake I'm liable not to let you make again, are we clear?" Shaking slightly, Vernon only nodded. "Good. Anyways, _her_ temper is much worse than mine, and _she_ knows about two million better ways to make you pay for your close-minded ignorance," he said, placing extra emphasis on the terms her and she. "Now, moving on, it is my great pleasure to announce to the three of you that I will no longer be a tenant of this hell-whole you call a home. Indeed, that is actually why Tonks is here, to take me away from you terrible people. Now, before I say my…_goodbyes_, is there anything any of you would wish to say to me?"

After a few moments of silence, thinking that none of them had the guts to say anything, Harry almost continued, but noticed Dudley step forward a little with slight trepidation before muttering, "Er, Harry, I never got the chance to say this to you last year, and I've been tryin' to figure out how to this year, but it looks like it's now or never, so here goes. As far as I can see, you saved my life last year from those demented thingies, and I just wanted to tell you thanks," and stuck out his hand.

Caught slightly off guard by this rare display of humanity from the boy who had tortured him for so many years, Harry slowly reached out his own hand, lightly shaking Dudley's. After the exchange, Dudley quickly stepped back and resumed his attempts at not drawing attention.

Shaking off his startled expression, Harry turned back to the two adults. "Alright, Aunt Petunia, I'll start with you. You'll never know quite how much I wished for you to show me even an ounce of warmth while I was growing up. I was desperate for it. After I learned more about my parents, I was amazed that you could possibly be related, let alone be sisters with, my mother, of whom you seem to be the complete opposite in every way. For years, I felt incredible anger for you, and yet, this last year, I have come to see your actions towards me for what they really are. Envy. You envied my mother to such an extent, that you have let it eat away at your soul, until all that was left was this bitter, empty husk of a woman standing before me today. Knowing this, I want you to know that it is no longer anger I feel towards you, but pity. I pity you, and I probably always will to some extent. That's all I have to say to you." As he concluded, Petunia seemed slightly affronted by his words; yet, Harry thought he could detect a small trace of knowing embarrassment as well.

Turning his attention to the rather walrus-like man to her left, Harry continued, "And now I come to you. There is no part of me that _will ever_ pity you, Vernon. You have tortured me, both mentally and physically, for the better part of sixteen years, all the while seeming to take some sort of sadistic pleasure in doing so. Sometimes I talk to people, and the discussion of Voldemort comes up, and they say something like, 'I just can't believe that anyone so heartless and cruel could possibly exist!' All I can do when I hear this is shake my head, because I know that they can. I've lived with one of the most cruel and heartless people ever imaginable all my life. You know, I've imagined this day for almost as long as I can remember, and I always thought that I would be able to take the high road when it comes to saying my piece. But fuck that. I hate you Vernon, more than you could possibly imagine. Sometimes, I'm afraid of exactly how much I do hate you, like it will consume me whole or something. If not for the fact that I know myself to be a better human being than you could ever be, I would have killed you already, consequences be damned. Understand, Vernon, that my hatred of you will _never_ die, and I cannot guarantee that I won't someday come looking for retribution for all the things you've done to me." At this, a very evident look of fear crossed Vernon's face. Harry smiled, continuing, "The only thing about you that gives me any comfort is that someday when you die, either at my hands or for some other reason," once again, Vernon's look of fear increased, "you will finally get the justice you so richly deserve in the fiery pit of hell. My only hope is that, if there is any fate for your soul worse than burning for an eternity, that you will face it."

From behind him, Harry heard Tonks interrupt, "Harry, we've got to get going, the portkey is time activated and we've only got a couple minutes left."

Releasing Vernon from his deathly gaze, Harry finally turned to Dudley. "Well, I guess I don't have the time to fully express all I feel about you, Big-D. All I can think of to tell you is this: after your display earlier, I believe that there may just be hope for you yet, no matter how small that hope might be. Understand, of course, that I personally never wish to be associated with you again, no matter how much you might change in the future. However, I will offer you this bit of advice. If you really do want to become a respectable human being, and live a life that's not filled with petty hatred, the best thing you can do for yourself is get as far away from the two people to your right as you can, as soon as you can. They're like acid, Duds, acid that will eat your soul alive if you let it. So, there you go, that's all I can say, all I can hope is that it sunk in somewhere in that thick skull of yours." Dudley nodded slightly, but spoke no words.

Seeing his work finished, Harry walked from the room, turning his back on the only family he had ever known for the last time. Amazingly, he felt not one drop of remorse or loss.

Following Harry up the stairs, once they were in his room and out of ear shot, Tonks retrieved the portkey from her pocket and held it up in her right hand, grabbing Hedwig's cage with her left before saying, "Wow, Harry, I gotta say, that was maybe the most impressive tellin' off I've ever seen in my life! I mean, honestly, I may just have to save that memory for later viewing in a pensieve or something. Really, it was quite the work of art, my man!" she said, patting him strongly on the shoulder.

Blushing slightly, Harry retorted, "Yeah, well, 16 years of frustration, thinking of that exact moment, will lead to a pretty grand finale. I'm just glad I was able to get every part of it out."

"Yeah, I especially liked that last part you said to the walrus. I hope that asshole is looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life!"

"Yeah, well, don't count on it. He's so thick minded, he's probably erupting with anger right now. While I don't honestly think I'll ever search him out purposefully, he just better hope we don't ever run into each other accidentally, and if we do, I hope to Merlin he's got the presence of mind to walk the other way quickly." As if on cue, Vernon's screaming could be heard from downstairs, "Move out of my way Petunia! How dare that FREAK speak to us in that way! I'm going to teach him some manners, one way or the other."

"OK, Harry, grab your trunk and touch the portkey, 'cause we're leavin' in 5…4…3…2…1," and with the ever so familiar tug behind his navel, Harry was taken from Privet drive, never to return.

* * *

Landing with a soft thump in the sitting room of what used to be his Godfather's family home, Harry barely managed to retain his balance without falling down. Releasing the handle of his trunk, he quickly had to rebalance himself once again as the bushy, brown-haired form of his surrogate sister slammed into him, gripping him in a tight hug.

"Harry!! It's so good to see you! Isn't this the best of surprises? We were just told a couple of minutes ago that you'll never have to go back to those awful people again!" She said all this without taking one breath, almost making Harry laugh. She seemed almost more excited than he was.

Receiving a somewhat manly pat on the back from his other best friend, Harry turned to face a brightly smiling Ron. "Hey, mate, long time no see, eh? Great to be seeing you after _all this time_!!" Ron joked.

Laughing while receiving a second hug from Ginny, Harry finally had a chance to speak. "Hey guys, it's great to see you, too. Although, I must say I'm surprised to see you, Hermione, I thought you and your parents were going on holiday?"

"Oh, well, we are, it's but we're not leaving Britain until next week. We're going to be spending a week at the French Riviera! I'm so excited! Anyway, Professor McGonagall just showed up at my house this afternoon, telling my parents that I was needed here for tonight, and that she would take me back tomorrow. Apparently, there's some sort of big Order meeting happening tonight, although I don't know why I have to be here. Mrs. Weasley already told all of us that there was no chance of us being a part of the meeting." As she finished, Harry could see the look of bitterness spread across her face. She may not fight against the rules as much a he and Ron, but she hated being treated like a child just as much as they did.

Piping in his own two bits, Ron said, "I don't know why you need to go on holiday outside the country, Hermione! You could spend a perfectly nice Holiday at the borrow with me…and Ginny, of course!" He blushed deeply at his almost-admission.

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione shook her head and turned to the tall redhead. "Oh please, Ron! This is spending time with my parents! Not to mention, the beach will be a perfect way to relax and wind down after having such a stressful finish to the year." Harry noticed her expression change to one of worry as she completed this last sentence.

Not noticing this herself, with a wink to Harry, Ginny coyly remarked, "Besides, Hermione, I bet there'll be all kinds of _boys_ there. Why, I bet you'll have them all taking numbers!!"

Ron looked livid and was about to say something when Hermione spoke up, looking solemnly at Harry. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot how simply awful you must be feeling right now. Do you need to-"

Getting ready to interrupt himself, Harry was beat to the punch. "Hermione, trust me when I tell you, you _do not_ want to finish that sentence. Now, this little reunion is touching and all, but since you three aren't going to be in the meeting, do you think you could take Harry's things to his room? And Harry, we need to get going to the kitchen, the meeting should be starting any second."

Feeling both grateful to Tonks for averting the sure pity party that was about to take place, as well as surprised that he would be taking part in the meeting. "Sure, Tonks, lets go," he said, as he watched his three friends disappear upstairs.

Following the young aurer down the hall, Harry was amazed at the sheer number of people crammed into the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He saw many people he recognized, and just as many people he did not. Several conversations were taking place simultaneously, making it near impossible to pick up on what any one person was saying. The only reoccurring theme he seemed to be picking up was the everybody else was just as perplexed as to why this emergency meeting had been called as he was. Shortly after finding a seat at the table next to Tonks and Mrs. Weasley, who patted his hand and gave him a motherly smile, he saw Dumbledore enter the room.

Taking control of the meeting, Dumbledore raised his voice slightly and said, "If I can have your attention please! As soon as everyone calms down and arranges themselves around the table, we can begin." After a few minutes, everyone quieted down, and Dumbledore was able to survey the room. Sighing slightly before rubbing his hands over his eyes, he finally said in a somewhat tired tone, "Molly, I thought I had explained that I wanted _everyone_ made available for the meeting? I of course meant for Ronald, Ginevra and Hermione to be included as well."

"Surely you cannot be serious, Albus," she stated in a somewhat incredulous tone. "They are just children, and I have already explained to you that I will not allow my two youngest to take part in any order business until _after_ they complete school. The only reason I'm allowing Harry to be here is because you were so adamant about it, and frankly, it's not my decision to hold him back." With that, she crossed her arms, obviously preparing to do battle if necessary.

Sighing again, Dumbledore finally said, "Molly, friend, trust me when I tell you that what I am about to share with you all does not just affect we adults, but directly affects the children, as well. I dare say that Miss Granger especially needs to be here."

As she was about to argue back, a hand suddenly fell firmly on her shoulder, effectively silencing her rebuttal. Looking for the source of this touch, she looked directly into the eyes of the man whom she had been married to for more than thirty years. "Molly, dear, I'm sure Albus would not include the children in any Order business unless it was especially important. Why don't we just let them sit in, and if we decide that the business is not for them to hear, we can send them away?" Not waiting for her approval, Mr. Weasley turned to face one of his twin sons and motioned for him to retrieve the three missing persons. Mrs. Weasley remained silent, although Harry could tell that she did not agree with the present circumstances one bit.

After a few minutes, Fred re-entered the room, closely followed by Ron, Ginny and Hermione, all three of whom instantly grew extremely shy at have all eyes on them.

Seeing the remaining members of his meeting arrive, Dumbledore cleared his throat, took a deep breath and began. "First, I would like to thank you all for coming on such short notice; I know some of you had to sacrifice important time to be here tonight." He saw a few nods of assent at this declaration, and continued. "This afternoon, while in my office discussing school matters with Minerva, I had a slight episode, and, to simplify things, I…appeared became unconscious for a brief period." Seeing the combination of surprise and concern instantly plastered across the faces of everyone in the room, he quickly raised his hands and continued in a reassuring voice, "Not to worry, I am in no worse health than anyone my age deserves to be."

Noticing his play on words, Harry asked, "Excuse me, Professor, but what exactly do you mean 'appeared to become unconscious?'"

Smiling at the boy sitting before him, Dumbledore answered, "Ah, my boy, thank you, for that definitely leads to the question of the hour. For, I believe, that while I may have appeared to become unconscious, my consciousness was actually transported to another location. Rather than attempt to explain this to you all and lose something in the translation, however, I feel it will save time if I simply show you all a memory that may clarify things for you." With that, he turned and, reaching into one of the kitchen cabinets, retrieved an item that few in the room other than Harry and Snape, were personally acquainted with. "For those who do not know, this is a pensieve, and, put simply, will allow all of you to share in my memories. Now, if you would all simply join hands, I have already placed the memory in question within the basin, ready for viewing."

After everyone had linked hands, Dumbledore lowered his own face into the basin, and everyone in the room was transported to a vast corn field.

* * *

Upon conclusion of the memory, Dumbledore withdrew himself from the pensieve, effectively bringing everyone else back as well. After taking a moment to situate himself, Harry began looking around the room. Most everyone seemed to have a stunned expression on their faces; Ron, he noticed, had a look of confusion written upon his face, while Hermione looked like she may become sick. For his own part, Harry could feel a sense of dread slowly building within him.

Finally, after what felt like hours of dead silence, Amos Diggory spoke up. "Albus, how do we know that that was not simply just a dream, or some sort of…I don't know, I guess I want to know, how do we know if it was real?"

"My good man, alas, I had hoped that this was indeed just a false vision of some sort, some kind of apparition brought on by a poorly cooked lunch, or some such. However, I have come to be sure that it was very real."

Speaking up for the first time, albeit with a rather weak voice, Hermione said, "It has to be real." Feeling all eyes turn to her, she began to elaborate, "Well, what I mean to say is that, from what I've read about pensieves, only conscious memories can be viewed on them, it is simply impossible to view items of the subconscious, such as dreams."

Smiling weakly at the girl, Dumbledore said, "Ahh, my dear, your brilliance once again shows itself to be evident. I'm afraid that Ms. Granger is quite correct. Since we were able to view this memory in the pensieve, wherever I was, I was quite conscious."

His confusion finally getting the better of him, Ron finally asked, "But what does it all mean? I mean, 'there's a storm on the brew,' what's she on about?"

"Essentially, Mr. Weasley, I do not know. All that I can tell for sure is that, whoever or whatever this woman was, she was warning me of a coming danger from America. It can be deduced from the memory that what she speaks of is meant to wipe out all muggles while leaving all magical persons unaffected. Whether that extends to squibs or not is, for now, undetermined. Also, I feel it is important to point out that the woman said that what is about to occur cannot be stopped, which is why I have called this meeting."

Speaking up for the first time, Snape said, "Sir, I was confused about this earlier, however now I feel I understand something I witnessed while in the presence of the Dark Lord earlier." Seeing Dumbledore give the signal for his continuance, Snape said, "While with the Dark Lord, he held a meeting with someone I believe to be one of his servants abroad. I could not hear what was being said in this meeting; however at its conclusion, the Dark Lord addressed all his servants and told us to prepare for a journey to America in two days time, and to be ready to live in a world 'free of muggles'. I believe this may be directly linked to what you just showed us."

Suddenly remembering his afternoon, Harry quickly contributed, "Yeah, and before Tonks came to get me this afternoon, I had another vision from Voldemort, one where he was intentionally contacting me, and he concluded the vision by telling me 'see, Potter, I don't need to kill you to take over the world.' He was very, _very_ happy."

Lowering his head dejectedly, Dumbledore said gravely, "Then it is as I feared, Voldemort has indeed found some form of weapon to use against muggles. Currently, I have sent Remus Lupin to America to consult with the American Wizarding Officials and to keep an eye on what is going on over there. At the first sign of information, he is to report back to me at once to let me know what the trouble is, in hopes that we can fight it. However, the reason I have called you all here tonight is that we must begin planning for the worst case scenario."

Suddenly, Hermione shot up from her chair. "You mean, we have to prepare for all the muggles in the world to die, don't you? DON'T YOU!?!? THAT'S MY PARENTS YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!!! Letting this happen is simply not an option! WE.HAVE.TO.DO.SOMETHING!!!" At the conclusion of this outburst, she suddenly let out what looked to be a half sob, half dry heave before quickly exiting the room. Not two seconds later, Ron stood up and quickly excused himself to follow her.

Once again sighing in a defeated manner, Dumbledore pushed on. "As Miss Granger has pointed out, the possibilities here are horrifying. This is why I feel it extremely important to plan for the future now." Not seeing any other potential outbursts, he continued, "I have decided that, at the first sign of trouble, we are to move as many members of the magical community within the protective walls of Hogwarts as will allow it. My fear is simply that people could get hurt in the chaos of whatever is to come." Pausing and taking on a slightly guilty look, Harry could tell that what he was about to say was going to be difficult for everyone to swallow. "I have considered this at length, and believe me when I tell you that if there were any other option, I would be the first to take it. However, as difficult as it is to think of such things, I feel it is in our best interest to disallow the parents of any muggle-born students to come under our protection."

At this, the quiet in the room became an uproar. "Albus, you cannot be serious! What are we supposed to do, let them die?" asked an incredulous looking McGonagall.

"Minerva, as much as it pains me to say it, I cannot see any other option. The vision I had made it plainly obvious that no muggles would be spared the wrath of what's to come. My fear is that whatever atrocities may occur would spread to the castle, and while we all may remain untouched, having to watch several muggles die will be too much for everyone to handle. Now, of course, all muggle-born witches and wizards will have the option to come to the castle if they so choose to."

The arguments in the room began to die down at this statement. As much as Harry hated to admit it, he knew that the Headmaster was probably correct. The thought of this still turned his stomach, however.

"For now, that is all that I have to put out. Until we know what we are dealing with, we really cannot do anything more. Hagrid, I want you assemble a crew to begin preparing the castle for a mass increase in inhabitants. Also, Minerva, I need you to converse with the house elves and make preparations to stock up heavily on dry and non-perishable goods. Kingsley, Arthur, I need you both as well as any other ministry employees to keep your eyes and ears open to what is going on around you, for any potential information filtered through the government. Now, as we have all been through a great deal today and have taken in even more information, I feel the best thing any of us can do right now is to go home, and get a good nights sleep. If your worst fears come to pass, there may not be many more opportunities for such luxuries. I will contact all of you as soon as I have any information. Good night."

* * *

At his conclusion, everyone in the room once again broke up into their smaller groups of conversation, although this time, Harry could tell very clearly that all groups were on the same topic of discussion. Feeling rather useless, Harry finally grasped a rather shaken looking Ginny by the upper arms, helping her from her seat. She seemed to be in somewhat of a trance-like state, and followed his direction easily enough.

Wrapping one arm around her shoulders, Harry muttered in her ear, "It's OK, everything will be alright," hoping himself these words to be true. He then led her from the kitchen, intent on taking her to her bedroom for some rest.

As they passed the sitting room, however, Harry came to a stop as a heated conversation between his two best friends drew his attention.

"Step out of my way, Ronald. I'm quite serious about this," said a very determined, although rather ashen looking Hermione.

Crossing his arms and keeping his place in front of the fireplace, Ron shot back, "I'm bloody serious too! Look, 'Mione, we don't know what's going on out there, or what's going to be going on. Mum's already told me that Ginny and I aren't leaving Headquarters, and if I'm not going to be there to protect you, you're not going anywhere."

Huffing in frustration, Hermione shouted back, "Ronald!! This is not your decision to make! I am not simply going to sit by and let _my parents_ die! Ugh, I've had enough of this." As she finished, she suddenly reared back her foot and whacked Ron hard in the shin, making him hop out of her way and finally fall to his knees to her right. Kneeling down and tenderly taking his face in her hands, she said, "I should have told you years ago, but, in case I don't have another opportunity, I love you, Ronald, with every piece of my heart." As she finished, she drew him into an extremely passionate kiss. Harry suddenly felt like an intruder on this private moment.

Finally pulling back, she turned to Harry and said, "I would appreciate if you could send Hedwig to me every few days, so that I can keep contact with you all. I'm sorry to leave you like this, but I'm sure you understand." With that, she turned, threw a handful of floo powder into the fire, and muttered her address, whooshing away. Coming to his senses, Ron stood and ran to the fireplace, half sobbing and half yelling, "Hermione please come back!! I love you too! DAMNIT, I LOVE YOU TOO!!" The scene was so heart wrenching that Harry could feel a tear trickling down his cheek. Looking down at Ginny, he saw that he was not alone in his grief. He hugged her tighter to his chest.

Finally turning back to face his sister and his best mate, the stricken look on Ron's face was enough to send a fresh wave of grief over Harry, one he was not entirely sure he was going to be able to withstand. "I'm tired. I think I'm just going to go turn in early," he muttered as he shuffled across the room and up the stairs.

Shortly after, Harry led the still shocked Ginny up to her room, ensuring that she would be alright for the night, and then guided himself to Ron's room, which the two had shared the previous year. Even though he knew he would be expected to take over the master bedroom in Sirius' absence, he had absolutely no desire to spend this night alone, and was fairly sure that Ron wouldn't object to his presence. Even if they said nothing, at least if the two were together, they would not be alone. As he shuffled down the hall, Harry couldn't help but wonder how a day could go from being so wonderful to so horrible so quickly.

* * *

A/N: So concludes the first chapter of what I hope will be a very great story. The potential is there, I just have to try to keep my horrible writing from mucking it up too badly. Dear God, but this was a very emotionally charged chapter! Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I feel very pleased with how it turned out. The tension, she is 'a rising, and it'll only go up from here! Sorry for the incredible length of the scene at the Dursleys, I had not originally intended it to be that long; however, I also wanted very much for Harry to be able to say _exactly_ what he thought of his relatives, even if he may regret his harshness later. As always, review, review, REVIEW!! I wanna hear what you all are thinking out there!!

Cheers!!


	3. Midnight Meetings and Boring Days

DISCLAIMER: I am not profiting from this story in any way, and only the plot is mine in the first place.

POST DATE: October 8, 2007

**CHAPTER 2: Midnight Meetings and Boring Days**

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Harry rolled over so that his right side was now against the bed. 'Hmmm, big surprise,' he thought to himself, 'I'm not comfortable in this position either. Well, I suppose I should have expected this, considering I've been trying to find a good position to sleep in for over _2 bloody ours!_'

Finally deciding that he was still too worked up to sleep, he arose from his camp bed in Ron's room and quietly made his way to the door. As he reached it, he looked to his left where he saw Ron, tossing and turning in his own fitful attempt at sleep, although he at least seemed to have managed a state of semi-unconsciousness. Hearing several moans and a pained look on his best mate's face, Harry quickly decided against waking him from the nightmare that he appeared to be suffering. 'Bad sleep is still sleep, and at this point, he's gonna need all the sleep he can get. Who knows how any of us will be able to sleep if what we talked about at the meeting tonight comes to pass?'

Shaking his head, he quietly turned the door knob and exited the room, intent on going to the kitchen and having a cuppa. 'Maybe I can find something to calm my nerves a bit,' he thought. 'Right. I've just been told that the end of the world is coming, and a cup of bloody tea is going to calm me right down!'

Muttering under his breath as he exited the staircase and entered the kitchen, Harry did not at first notice the tired, hunched figure sitting at the table.

"Unable to sleep, Mr. Potter?"

"Who's there?" he asked, startled by the quiet, rather defeated sounding voice. Harry quickly turned and pointed his wand at the culprit, letting out a deep breath as his brain finally acknowledged the presence of his school's Headmaster. As he calmed down, Harry took in the sight of the man he had always considered somewhat of a mentor. What he seemed to weigh more than a ton on his mind. While he had always looked…rather mature, in Harry's opinion, Albus Dumbledore currently looked like he had aged over fifty years since the end of the meeting. He also looked tired, dead tired, more tired than any man had any business had being. However, the thing that Harry noticed above all other, to his own shock, what that he looked defeated. Never before could Harry have thought that this man, greatest among all wizarding kind, could look so…old.

His thoughts must have shown clearly on his face, for the tired wizard smiled slightly, although with no twinkle in his eyes whatsoever, before saying, "It's alright, Harry, I'm fine. Granted, I have had better days, but, unfortunately, I have also had worse. Please, sit down." Gesturing to a teapot on the table he asked, "Tea?"

Harry nodded and waited as a cup was filled. "Don't worry, this particular blend is meant to sooth the nerves, so it won't keep you up all night," Dumbledore said, attempting to sound jovial, and failing miserably.

"To be honest sir, I don't really think it matters exactly what's in it. In fact, I have a feeling it will be quite a while until I'm able to have a decent night's sleep again." Dumbledore simply nodded, and handed him the cup.

For a few minutes, both figures sat silently, each brewing in their own thoughts. Finally, Dumbledore spoke, although Harry was so distracted he only barely noticed.

"Excuse me?" he questioned, finally turning his eyes to face his elder.

"I said, you really shouldn't put so much sugar in your tea, it is quite bad for your teeth. I'm sure that if she were here, Miss Granger would concur."

Smiling bitterly, Harry replied, "Yeah, well, I suppose the condition of my teeth is getting ready to be the least of my problems, isn't it? I mean, you know, with the world coming to an end, and all." Concluding rather sarcastically, his face changed to reflect his rather bitter feelings.

"Harry, my dear boy, please believe me when I tell you that I understand how you feel. You must remember, as we all must, however, that we cannot let this defeat us. Even should this great atrocity come to pass, there will still be a war to be fought."

Harry responded after taking a few seconds to let everything his headmaster had just said sink in before responding. Apparently, his response came as somewhat of a surprise, as a look of shock took over the Headmaster's face. Harry was laughing. Uncontrollably. _Hysterically_.

After a few seconds, his laughter died down enough for him to finally spit out, "A war? That's rich. Thhhaaaaaat's unbelievably rich, sir. And Tell me, what, _exactly_ would be the purpose of trying to win this 'war'?" As he said this last word, he formed quotation marks in the air, and suddenly his expression looked less like that of a laughing man and more like that of an angry one. "In case you've forgotten sir, if all this comes to pass, if this _nightmare_ comes to be, then Voldemort will have won. All the muggles will be lost, and the world will be destroyed." He stood violently from his chair. "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO HAVE LEFT TO FIGHT FOR!?!?!?"

"Harry, please, it is late, and as improbable as it seems, there are actually people in this house who have successfully managed to find sleep." Waiting patiently until the boy had retaken his seat, he smiled sadly and continued. "Until earlier today, I could not have possibly imagined something like this coming to pass. Destruction at this level has not been seen in the history of the earth. Unfortunately, it is my belief that this will happen, and I also believe the woman from my vision when she said that we will not be able to stop it. Now, that being said, when this horrible…situation takes place, while the losses will be unfathomable, there will still be hundreds of thousands of lost witches and wizards left out there, and that's only if we are counting qualified witches and wizards. Should squibs also be able to survive, then the number of persons living would no doubt number in the millions worldwide. All these lost souls will be wandering aimlessly, and it will be _up to us_ to provide a light to guiding light in the dark times to come. We will be responsible for the care of the world we inherit."

Sighing deeply and covering his eyes with his hand so as not to show the tears that were forming, Harry asked, "Why us, sir? I mean, what makes us any more special that _we_ should inherit the earth, while all the muggles should die? None of these people deserve this, sir! Not a single one! It's just not…fair!"

Pausing, Dumbledore finally smiled and reached over and patted the boy's hand reassuringly before saying, "Harry, my boy, as you of all people have learned, the world is, by and large, a rather unfair place most of the time. No, you're quite right, not a single person who is going to perish because of what's to come has so much as even met Voldemort, much less earned his wrath. For that matter, none of us who are to survive have earned what we are about to go through, either; however, and this is what I _need_ you to understand Harry, regardless of what is deserved and what is not, _this is going to happen_, and no matter how much we wish for it not to be so, we will be left to pick up the pieces. Believe me when I tell you, we will all mourn the losses that are to come. I fear times will be most difficult for people such as Miss Granger, who in a sense will be losing an entire way of life. However, we would be doing those who will be lost a grave disservice by wallowing in pity rather than fighting against the people responsible for their deaths. Why, to let Voldemort win because of this, well, it would be like saying that those who died helped to make it happen. I, for one, will not let that weigh down on my conscience, as I am sure you will not, either."

Resignedly Harry replied, "I guess you're right, Professor."

"Harry, unfortunately, I know I'm right. And it goes deeper for you and me, I'm afraid. People will be looking to us, yes the both of us, for leadership in these trying times. Your friends, along with many other people, look up to you; they value your opinion above many others. It will be up to us to represent a position of strength, to provide the proverbial 'shoulder to lean on' for those who need it. Times are getting ready to become unimaginably hard, more so than even I can fathom; however, if we stick together and remain strong, I'm sure that we can attain something positive from this. Even if that does not seem at all possible right now."

Staring fixedly at the tabletop, Harry finally lifted his eyes to Dumbledore's and said, "No sir…no. I cannot accept that type of responsibility. I mean, I'm just a boy! What do I know about leading people? For that matter, since when have I ever set a proper example for anyone to follow? People who stay close to me generally tend to end up dead, and I can't have that. I won't," he finished resolutely.

"Sadly, I do not think you have much of a choice in the matter. The lines have been drawn already, Harry, and your position in this matter was cemented long before now. Though you may be a boy in age, I think we both know you haven't been a boy in actions for more than a year now. Also, do not attempt to downplay your leadership skills when, not all that long ago, I seem to remember you leading a rather successful mission that ended in the capture of several high ranking death eaters. As for the example you set, while I admit that you sometimes have a knack for…bending the rules, I have never once seen you perform an action when you did not have the best intentions of others at heart. And that, my boy, is _the best_ example anyone could possibly hope to follow."

At this, Dumbledore leaned back, and the two returned to their silence, each once again lost in thought. Finally, after thirty minutes of quiet, Dumbledore looked at the clock in the kitchen and, seeing that it was almost two in the morning, rose from his chair and said, "Well, Harry, I believe it is entirely beyond my bed time, so I am afraid I must retire for the evening. I would suggest that you do the same." As he reached the door leading to the hall, he stopped and turned back, a compassionate smile on his face. "Remember Harry, we are not defined by how we handle the responsibilities that we take on, but rather by how we react to the responsibilities that are thrust upon us unwillingly. I, for one, have every confidence that this will be your time to shine. Goodnight, Mr. Potter," and with that, he was gone.

Harry continued to stare at the doorway for several minutes. Finally, as he sipped the last of his tea, he took his empty cup to the sink, washed it by hand, and trekked back to Ron's room. As he lay down, once again attempting to reach slumber, he could not help but wonder if Dumbledore's faith was misplaced.

* * *

At about this time, nearly halfway across the world in the small town of Arnette, Texas, a security guard for a top secret governmental disease control and study facility was finally losing his battle with the sickness that had been eating away at his body and had already claimed the lives of his wife and daughter. Driving raggedly, swerving back and forth, he finally lost control of the wheel and ran off the road, colliding with several gas pumps of Hap's Service Station. As Hap and all the other men in the station rushed out to see about any survivors from the crash, none of them knew that they were rushing towards the near extinction of mankind.

* * *

The house remained fairly quiet for the next handful of days. Fewer Order members were stopping by, and Harry couldn't personally blame them. When there were there, they were forced to think about "The Meeting" as it was not ominously being called. Though the Weasleys had volunteered to stay with Harry, he couldn't help but notice that the twins were rarely present, and had decided to remain at their flat above their shop. Once again, he couldn't blame them. Therefore, most of the time, the only occupants of the house were Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Ginny and Ron.

Ron had become basically a shell of himself after the departure of Hermione. He only spoke when spoken to, and even then, he rarely gave more than one-word answers. The first day after "The Meeting", Harry had attempted on several occasions to stir up any type of conversation, even going so far as to criticize Ron's beloved Chudley Cannons, daring a response from him. His only action at each of these attempts, however, was to simply get up and leave the room that they happened to be in. Even Ginny had given a weak attempt at egging her temperamental brother into an argument, though all she earned was the same response. The second day, Ron had headed off any further attempts at conversation by barricading himself in his room, only opening the door to Harry at night when they went to sleep, and only venturing out when he was needed for chores or meals and to use the loo. Sensing that he was in pain, Mrs. Weasley was surprisingly lax on the amount of chores she required of her youngest son.

With Ron no longer around, and everyone else avoiding the Black Family Home, Harry and Ginny were essentially left to their own devices. Most of their time together was spent pretending that nothing was wrong. They would do chores for Mrs. Weasley, read books, play games of chess and exploding snap, and generally do anything to occupy their time awake.

On the third day, in the middle of a game of wizard's chess, Ginny had asked Harry, in what she no doubt hoped was a casual manner, "So Harry, it's been three days – Rook to E4 – maybe all this will just blow over, do you think?"

Feeling slightly uncomfortable to be breaking their mutual agreement for silence, Harry responded, "Well, Gin, to be honest, not a minute goes by that I hope for exactly that. But, I won't feel comfortable until Remus comes back and has good news."

"I know, I know, but it has just been so quiet. I mean, that's gotta mean something, right?"

Suddenly, Harry saw this conversation for what it actually was. Shaking his head slowly, he stopped looking at the chess board and stared her directly in the eyes. "Look, Gin, I can't tell you that everything's gonna be alright, 'cause I honestly don't know if that's true. Please don't try to force me to say something that I'm not sure of. I don't want to lie to you, OK?" After he was finished, he knew what he said had come out more harshly than he had intended it to.

Her face drew back as though she had been slapped, and she quickly rose from her chair and turned her back on her friend, to hide the tears that were forming. After a few moments silence, she finally sobbed out, "Sorry, OK? It's just that…that…oh, I don't even know. I'm just so tired of sitting here doing nothing, alright? Everything feels like it's in slow motion, you know? Minutes seem like hours, hours seem like days. Oh Merlin, everyone seems to be concentrating so hard on _not_ talking about the _one thing_ that we all want to talk about. It's killing me. Everybody's trying so hard to act normal that they are being _anything but_ normal, well, everyone accept for Ron, that is. All he does is act like he's already dead! I can't even look at him anymore, Harry; it's like looking directly into the eyes of despair! He's my brother, and he hurts so badly, and there's absolutely nothing I can do to help him! It hurts so much Harry, so, so much." As she finished, she was wracked with a fresh round of sobs, making it unable for her to continue.

Seeing his friend in distress, Harry had no choice but to react. Though he did not care at all for crying females, he knew that Ginny was not the type to cry at the drop of a hat, so for her to be sobbing openly like this, she must be hurting immensely. Standing from his seat, he quickly closed the space between them, turned her around, and wrapped his arms around her protectively. At first, she did not react; however, after about ten seconds, she slowly unfolded her arms and wrapped them around his torso, gripping him for dear life and crying desperately into his shirt.

They stood like that for nearly fifteen minutes, until Mrs. Weasley came into the room, announcing loudly, "Alright you two, lunch is ready…oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were busy." Backing out of the room, she said quickly, "Well, when you're finished, come get something to eat. Oh, and tell Ron, also."

After she left, Harry felt the rumble of Ginny's laughter in his chest. Laughing himself, he remarked, "I'm surprised she didn't blast me off you with a reductor spell or something."

"Oh, Harry, she knows we're friends. Besides, I think she understands. I mean, she's got Dad, and she knows that we need each other right now, you know? We need to keep each other sane, to help each other hold on, right?"

Looking into her eyes, Harry couldn't help but wonder where the shy, introverted girl he had first met all those years had gone. Standing before him now was a strong, confident woman, a woman that he indeed felt that he needed to lean on right now. 'How has our relationship changed so drastically without me even noticing?' he wondered to himself.

So lost in thought was Harry that he did not even notice until the last second that his face was, in fact, drifting slowly closer to hers. As he stared into her warm, inviting eyes, he suddenly came to his senses, withdrawing from her so quickly that he almost tripped over the table holding their chess game. Attempting to lighten the mood, he said, "So, er…save the game for after lunch?"

Smiling lightly and…was that a hint of disappointment in her eyes…she turned towards the kitchen and said over her shoulder, "Sure. Hey, you go get Ron, huh? He's your best mate, after all."

Grateful for her light-hearted reply, Harry retorted, "Oh, sure, he's _my_ best mate. Never mind the fact that he's _your_ brother, right?"

She turned at the door jam, stuck her tongue out at him playfully, then whipped around and left the room. Harry gave a sigh of relief that was able to avoid making a rather large mistake.

* * *

On the fourth day, a much anticipated owl post arrived, as Hedwig came bearing two items. The first was an open piece of parchment addressed to Harry and Ginny. The second was sealed in an envelope, and was simply addressed to Ron.

Taking Hedwig to her cage so she could get some water and feeding her some owl treats, Harry set Ron's letter aside for the time being and concentrated on his and Ginny's letter. With a nod from her, he began to read.

_Dear Harry and Ginny,_

_I hope this letter finds you both well. Let me begin by apologizing for the lateness of this, as things have been a little crazy around here the last few days. I want you both to let everyone know that my parents and I are fine. I have convinced them to cancel their vacation, although they have still taken the time off, which is nice as it gives us time to spend together. _

_I want you to know that I decided to tell them the truth about what was talked about in the meeting. I struggled with whether or not I should, but in the end, I figured that if this is going to happen, and if there really is nothing I can do about it, then we'll spend as much time together as a family as possible, right up until the end…_

Here, Harry noticed the faint outline of what appeared to be tear stains.

_Anyways, I contacted the Ministry of Magic and had our floo connection cut of, because I don't want anybody trying to break into our house if everything goes into a panic. This means that if anything happens, i.e. when Remus returns, I'm counting on you to get word to me through Pigwidgeon or some other owl. I hope you don't mind, Harry, but I would very much like to keep Hedwig with me, so that I'll have some way of getting in touch if I'm in an emergency._

_I've been keeping an eye on the muggle news, and haven't heard anything out of the ordinary yet, although I suspect, with whatever this is happening across the pond, that we won't hear anything over here until well after Remus gets any information. Also, it's hard to keep an eye out when I have absolutely no idea what I'm looking for, you know? Still, I'll owl you guys the second I hear anything, promise._

_Listen; can you guys do me a favor? I feel absolutely awful about the way I left things with Ron, but there was nothing I could do, you know? Anyways, I've written him a separate not trying to explain myself, but could you guys please, please, PLEASE work on him and get him to understand that I'm sorry, and that I do love him? We all know how stubborn Ron can be, but I don't want him hating me, now right now, I just can't handle that. I've instructed Hedwig not to leave until he sends a note with her. I just…I need to know that he's with me, even if only in spirit._

_Alright guys, that's all for now, I'll owl again soon. Take care, _

_With Love,_

_Hermione_

As he finished the note, Harry refolded it and picked up the note for Ron before turning to Ginny. "I think I'll go ahead and deliver this to him. You better wait down here, I don't know how he'll react, no use in you getting caught in the cross fire."

"Thanks, Harry. Tell me how it goes, OK? And make sure to smack him upside the noggin if he gets outta line!"

Chuckling slightly, Harry climbed the stairs to Ron's room. As he walked down the hall, he couldn't help the sense of foreboding that was taking him over, making him feel more and more like he was marching towards his impending doom. He knew Ron was mad that she left, he just didn't know _how_ mad.

Knock, knock, knock.

Harry was positive Ron wasn't going to respond, and was therefore surprised enough to jump slightly when the door opened.

"What do you want?" he questioned in a flat, emotionless voice so unlike his normal one.

Feeling confusingly nervous, Harry sputtered out, "U-uh, Her-Hermione wrote to us," then jammed both Ron's private letter as well as the letter to he and Ginny into his chest.

With a look of indifference, Ron took both letters, and began reading silently on the spot. First, he read the letter to Harry and Ginny, where his face seemed to harden at first, and then took on a pained look that nearly broke Harry's heart. Opening and reading the second letter, again silently, his face moved back to impassive, although tears were now openly flowing down his cheeks. Wanting so badly to comfort his friend, it was all Harry could do to keep himself from throwing his arm over Ron's shoulders and giving him a manly hug.

Finally finishing, he looked up and, with tears still flowing, calmly asked, "Where's Hedwig?"

Not hesitating in the slightest, Harry lifted both fingers to his mouth and whistled. A few seconds later, the beautiful snowy owl floated into the hall and landed on Harry's extended arm. Turning his arm to Ron, he motioned with his head and Hedwig effortlessly hopped from Harry to Ron's outstretched limb.

"Just keep her in the room, mate, I'll send her off tonight before bed with your note and with a note from Gin and me," Harry said, hoping against all hope that he had kept his voice even.

Backing into the room, Ron gave one last, anguished look at his friend before answering, "Thanks," then closing the door. Harry walked back downstairs to the sitting room, where he proceeded to tell Ginny of his exchange with Ron, and once again held the poor girl as she cried.

* * *

"Harry! Ron! Wake up, you lazy sods! Breakfast has is ready, and Mum says if you two don't get downstairs soon, all that'll be left is cold toast and marmalade!" shouted the voice of Ginny Weasley through their bedroom door. Opening an eye, Harry saw that, indeed, light was streaming through the window, signaling the lateness of the hour. He glanced over at Ron's bed, and saw some movement, suggesting that he too was now awake. Harry knew better, however, than to try to try and interact with his friend, so he had instead done as he had for the past six days, and ignored him.

The arrival of Hermione's letter had done little to change Ron's interactions with the people at Grimmauld Place, yet, Harry could tell it had had some effect, for Ron no longer had been having fitful nights of sleep, but rather, slept in his usual deep trance. This at least let Harry to hope that Ron was feeling better.

Getting out of bed, Harry put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, looked in a mirror and shook his head at his impossible mop of hair, then quickly made his way downstairs.

"Eat up, you two," Mrs. Weasley said to Harry and Ginny as he took his seat at the table. "Harry, is Ron awake?" At his nod, she made her way back to the sink and began to wash the cooking utensils. Talking to the two teens over her shoulder, she began listing off the day's chores. "Harry, I'm going to need you to search the curtains in all the third floor rooms for doxies again, I know there are some at least in Arthur and mine's room. Ginny, today is the day for dusting the sitting room, so you can either do that separately, or the two of you can work together. That's about all I can think of, although pretty soon the floors in the hall will need to be re-polished. But I think we can leave that off for another day or two."

Grunting their understanding, the two teens began attacking their breakfast, when suddenly the door leading from the kitchen to the back entrance flew open, and in walked a very anxious Albus Dumbledore. "Molly, we must prepare immediately for another full meeting of the order. I need you to contact as many through the floo network as possible, and I'll be off contacting the rest."

"Absolutely, Albus, but what shall I tell them?"

"Tell them Remus has returned from America."

* * *

A/N: Oh, I know, I hate cliff hangers too, but it's really not that bad, I'm sure you can all pretty much assume what's coming. Anyways, just want to say I'm so, so sorry, because I know this is a somewhat boring chapter, but we all know that in _good_ stories, some chapters are just like this. Also, I just want to point out that I am very unhappy with the first subchapter with Harry and Dumbledore, but I've spent over 4 hours just on that part, and I don't think I can make it any better than what it is, so, sorry about that. Stuff will start picking up a bit next chapter, rest assured. Well, that's all I've got, give me a review, and tell me what ya think. Until next time…

Cheers!!


	4. Hard Choices and Fighting Friends

DISCLAIMER: I am not profiting from this story in any way, and only the plot is mine in the first place.

POST DATE: October 17, 2007

**CHAPTER 3: Hard Choices and Fighting Friends **

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, at this time I must ask for order so that this meeting can begin. First and foremost, I would once again like to thank all of you for taking the time on such short notice to be here, and let me assure you all that said time will not be wasted, as there is some_ very_ important information to be put out." As Dumbledore looked out upon the sea of faces that were in turn focused back on him, he noted that two expressions seemed to be warring for dominance amongst the group. Half seemed to be hopeful that last week's meeting would be labeled as some sort of hoax or ruse, while the other half had a more fearful look to them, as though they were preparing for the worse. 'Funny,' he thought, 'I doubt anybody could be prepared for the report Remus has to give.'

Once the room had quieted, Dumbledore spoke once more. "I have called you all here today because we have new details pertaining to the information that was put out at last weeks meeting. Now, as you already know, Remus Lupin was sent to America to investigate any possible truth behind the vision that I had. Well, Mr. Lupin has returned and, sadly, he does indeed have more information for us all. I feel I must warn you all in advance, what you are about to hear is not going to be easy to take, yet I beg you all to remain calm until we have had a chance to discuss our options. Now, if you would all please," he said, motioning to Remus, "hand over your undivided attention to Mr. Lupin so that he may begin."

As Remus stood from his chair at the kitchen table, Dumbledore could not help but notice that he looked, if at all possible, even more tired and care worn than he did just seven days previously. He was pulled from his private reverie however as he saw Remus take one brief glance around the entire room before beginning. "Thank you, Albus. As it was pointed out previously, I have been in the United States for the last six days, and I am afraid that during that time, I have come across the most disturbing news."

At this, he seemed to pause and take a deep, shuttering breath before continuing. "Working with the American magical community, I have come across some information regarding the existence of a so-called 'killer' disease that is spreading like wild-fire within their borders. So far, their government has been successful in keeping this epidemic quiet, simply taking the official stance that it 'does not exist'. This tactic, while effectively keeping their people somewhat calm, has unfortunately led to a severe lack of information for us to go on. We have been able to come across some things, though.

"The disease is actually what muggles call a virus. As an example, think of the flu and the common cold, which are also viruses. It has no official name, although I have heard whispers of the muggles referring to it as 'Captain Tripps'. I am unsure of the reference here. Anyway, it seems to have originated somewhere in the American southwestern region, although there's no telling how it began, nor whom is responsible. So far, it has a 99.9 communicability rate, meaning that just being in the same general vicinity of somebody who is infected is enough to ensure that you will also become sick. I personally have seen no one who is actually afflicted, and cannot therefore determine for sure whether or not we magic users are immune.

"Symptoms of the disease are both tricky and effective. For nearly the entire duration of the sickness, those afflicted show signs almost identical to those of the flu, the only difference being that, whereas people with the flu tend to get better with rest and the use of muggle potions, this disease has so far shown to have a 100 mortality rate, basically meaning those who catch it die, regardless of any precautions they my take." At this, several intakes of breath could be heard. "The disease also works startlingly fast, only taking an average of two days to kill its victims. Oh, yeah, and so far, no cure has surfaced, either. In short, this virus, for lack of a better term, seems to be the perfect killing machine."

At the conclusion of this statement, silence reigned supreme for a few minutes before Amos Diggory was the first find his voice. "Remus, Albus, as troubling as the news of this…Captain Tripps, or whatever, is for the Americans, it seems to be _their_ problem, not ours. I say we let them deal with it!" Gaining steam as he went along, Diggory concluded by pounding his fist on the table. Several grunts of agreement could be heard throughout the crowd.

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair, Remus tiredly responded, "Amos, I'm afraid it's just not that simple. With the advancements in muggle transportation, a muggle can, and almost definitely will have by now, catch the disease and have it inside British borders within a few short hours. From there, it will most assuredly spread throughout every corner of the Isles in a matter of days. What may not be our problem now will most definitely become our problem in the very near future."

Seeing that his point had not been driven home to some, Remus placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, making him appear even grimmer than before. With his tone becoming more agitated by the second, he growled out, "Look, I'm not going to lie to you or sugar coat things here. This…thing, Captain Tripps or whatever it is, is about the most damn scary killer I've ever seen. Just to give you some perspective, between the time I first heard about the disease until just before I left to come here only three days later, over 25 of the entire Southwestern United States populous were showing signs of being infected. That's roughly twenty million people who will be dead within the next two days, and that's just the people we know about! Oh, and the numbers are growing exponentially, by the way. In another three days, over 30 of the total American population will be infected. By the end of the week, you ask? 80. If current projections hold true, and I have absolutely no doubt that they will, by the end of the first week of July, virtually every American will have not only contracted this disease, but they also will have died from it." Slamming his fists into the table, he nearly shouted, "For those who need the math, that's over 230 million souls lost in a span of roughly _3 weeks_!"

Suddenly, he adopting a look of disgust on his face before continuing. "Here, I've brought some muggle pictures if you need proof of how terrible all this is." With that, he picked up a small folder from the table, opened it, and threw the contents across the tabletop. What was seen was enough to make the strongest man gasp with fright and disgust, and more than a few retching noises could be heard in the background.

Dumbledore looked away as the pictures were displayed before him, for he had already seen most of them, and wished not to become sick himself. As he heard the gasps and dry heaves, his mind unfortunately found its way to the pale faces and blank stares he had seen earlier. It truly was a gruesome sight, with boils and open sores all over their skin, their exposed flesh so distorted that it seemed almost to be running off their bodies, as though it was liquefying. Indeed, had Remus not convinced him that everyone needed to see this, so that they may get some form of context, he would not have allowed such horrifying images to be shown at all.

Concluding his report, he tiredly added, "We all need to be prepared to witness a lot more of this, and a lot more personally. Assuming Albus' vision was correct, a maximum of maybe, and I do mean _maybe_, three to four hundred thousand magic users and squibs will be left alive at that time. That leaves over six billion bodies worldwide, by as soon as the end of July." As he concluded, Remus eased himself back into his chair, all his energy seemingly sapped out of his body.

Finally coming to terms with what Remus was saying, Diggory quietly retook his seat, a look of pale shock on his, as well as everyone else's, face.

After what seemed like hours, yet were actually no more than a few minutes, of quiet reflection upon the current situation, Dumbledore rose stoically to his feet. "Well everyone, it appears that our worst nightmare has indeed come to fruition. While none of us would wish for this to happen, it seems we cannot undo what has been set in motion here. It is for this reason," he paused and took a long, hard look around the room, "that we must prepare ourselves so that we may weather this storm. The muggle world will, in short order, become very unstable. The more people die, the more dangerous those who still live will become. We cannot depend upon the magical government to protect us, either, for when the muggle government topples, so will ours, I'm sure, for though they may not be connected in laws, they are still connected financially. When that happens, as sad as it is for me to say, I believe there will be several wizards who wish to…take advantage of the lawless situation. That is why I believe it is up to we few to protect and shield as many of the magical community as we can. It is because of all this that I have decided to go forward with the plan of action discussed at last week's meeting immediately. Please listen closely as I assign to all of you your duties."

* * *

As Remus was delivering his report, Harry slowly began to phase his attention away from the meeting. Barely did he notice Ginny's small hand slip into his own, or how her grip tightened continuously throughout the meeting, as she struggled to hold onto her sanity.

'I can't believe this is really happening,' he thought. 'I mean, I knew this was going to happen, but…all these people…'

Before he could slip too far into despair at that thought, however, he was brought back to the present by the sound of someone saying his name. "Er, excuse me? I'm sorry, I didn't hear what you said, professor."

"I said, Mr. Potter, that I have a special job that I will need you to perform, one that I wish to speak with you about after the conclusion of this meeting. Will you make yourself available?" questioned Dumbledore. He didn't seem perturbed at all at Harry's dazed and lethargic attitude, most likely because he felt fairly similarly.

"Uh…sure, Professor. We can talk in the sitting room." After finishing, Harry took his seat and listened to the rest of what was said.

"Good. Now, moving on…Molly, I'm going to need you and Ginevra to take over coordination of activities at the castle, as my staff and I will be busy with other pressing matters. Today, everybody living here at headquarters will be moving to the castle, but very soon there after I expect that many more, most likely numbering in the hundreds, wizarding families to be coming along. Your task will be to ensure that not only do families have beds, but that all who come to the castle are accounted for and that a roster of names is kept current and up to date. Are you both up to the task?"

Moving over to stand behind her daughter, Molly took on a look of determination before responding. "Absolutely, Albus. We'll get go get our things together and I'll apparate the two of us to the castle gates so that we can get ourselves and our family moved in and accounted for right away." Placing her hands on Ginny's shoulders, she guided her youngest to stand and directed her out the door and into the hall.

"Now, Minerva, I'll need you to take care to contact those muggleborn children who have not yet come of school age, and therefore do not know of their wizarding heritage. Now, I've given this considerable thought, and I have decided that all parents and siblings should be tested to see if they are squibs. _Only_ if they are squibs are they allowed to come to the castle. You must be honest with these parents, Minerva. Give them the option as to whether they are to send their children…"

A look of surprise on her face, McGonagall interrupted, "Albus! How can I just be expected to leave these children behind? What, so they can watch their parents die? Even still, do you realize how dangerous the world will be for these children once their parents become ill?"

Shaking his head slightly, Dumbledore responded, "Minerva, good friend, I have never been, and shall never be, of the mind to kidnap children from their families." Seeing that she was about to object, he raised his hand and quickly continued. "That is not to say that I have not prepared to help in every possible way. Now, once you leave here, if you look in my office, you will find two boxes. The first box contains several hundred ordinary looking wooden muggle pencils. These are actually illegal portkeys. If parents decide not to let their children go with you, simply leave one of these portkeys, which are activated by using the word 'Hogwarts' and can only be used by those with magical blood, and explain how to use them. I believe that most parents, once they see the reality of their situation, will choose to save their children if they have the option to do so.

"The other box contains several rather mundane looking push-pins. These are actually going to be your best sources of information. Each pin is tied to a page in the notebook that is also in the box. All you have to do is covertly push a pin into a wall anywhere within their house and the pin itself will feed off the magic of the child, feeding an up-to-date set of basic information to its page. This information will only include a basic location of the residence, the number of magical people within the house, along with the number of non-magical people within the house. With this information, we should be able to keep tabs on, and eventually save, those children whose parents are…resistant to us. You will select a detail of five other order members to assist you on this mission. I know that this is not a perfect plan, and that losses are almost imminent, but as I said, we_will not_ resort to kidnapping children from their parents."

Seeing no objection with his plan, though she still did not care for it, Minerva nodded her assent none the less.

"Arthur, Kingsley and all other ministry employees present, I need you all to continue with work as usual. While I want us to help as many as we can, I fear that if we become too vocal too early, the ministry will attempt to put the clamps on our operation. This could cause problems, and in the end could lower the number of people we are helping. For this reason, I want you to keep up appearances for as long as necessary. Now, while you are there I hope that you will take the opportunity to reach out to all ministry employees that you can and try to make them see reason." Mr. Weasley and the aurers nodded to their understanding.

"Now, as for the rest of you, you will be responsible for speaking with magical families, as well as non-magical parents of Hogwarts students, and trying to convince them to move to the school grounds. I must ask that you please be as vague as possible as to the circumstances of your request, although I am sure that they will become fairly public knowledge soon enough. In the end, your job comes down to trying to convince families that they are in danger, which will no doubt be difficult as both the ministry as well as the muggle government I'm sure will attempt to suppress any information regarding this danger for as long as possible. You all will be using the portkeys and pushpins as well."

Suddenly, and with such force that Harry was nearly surprised out of his chair, Ron leapt to his feet before near shouting, "I'm going to Hermione's house!"

Knowing that Mrs. Weasley might not care for Ron going out into muggle territory, Mr. Weasley quietly said, "Son, I know you want to help but…"

"No Dad! This is something I _have_ to do, and neither you nor Mum is going to stop me. Somebody has to make Hermione come to a safe area, and that somebody is going to be me. Harry, back me up here. You of all people know I'm right!"

Seeing the look of shock on Mr. Weasley's face at having been talked to in such a way by his youngest son, Harry knew what he had to do, yet was resistant to do so. Doing what he felt was right meant endangering a friendship that had not only been in existence for five years and was now more of a brotherhood type relationship by now, yet sending a emotionally hyped up Ron out into muggle London to try to _force_ Hermione (and Harry knew without a doubt that Ron would try to force her, against her will and becoming physical if necessary) into leaving her parents would almost certainly end in tragedy.

Deciding to air on the side of caution, Harry muttered, "Um, Ron, I don't think my opinion is the best one here…"

Ron was about to respond when he suddenly stopped. Looking at him, Harry could tell that something had "clicked" inside his head. Slowly, Ron's expression changed to one of incredulity, and finally he said, "No, no, Harry, I think we all want to hear what you have to say." Finishing his statement, he crossed his arms defensively and stood awaiting Harry's response.

Realizing that he had been made, Harry decided to get this over with quickly. "It's just that, well, you're really…emotional right now, Ron, and you know how you and Hermione are when you get emotional. If you go over there with a head of steam and try to _make_ her do anything, all that's gonna happen is you'll get hurt, and she won't come to the castle now, if at all. Ron, don't you see? Your intentions are great, but all you'll do is push her away!"

Ron stood perfectly still for what seemed an eternity. The room had become silent, waiting for his reaction. Finally, he dropped his hands to his sides and began pacing back and forth in front of the sink. Finally, he turned his gaze to Harry. "You know what? I'm sick and tired of what I want not mattering as much as what you want. You know, two weeks ago, you get a sudden vision that your Godfather is in danger, and we all followed you Harry, without hesitation."

Harry could feel his blood boiling at this point. "How dare you!! I…"

"No Harry, how dare you! YOU KNOW HOW BLOODY IMPORTANT THIS IS TO ME, YOU BASTARD, BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER TO YOU, DOES IT? THE ONLY THING YOU CARE ABOUT IS…YOU!!" yelled Ron.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley! Now is _not_ the time for this!" said Dumbledore, in a quiet yet stern tone of voice. Once both boys were looking in his direction, he continued. "Mr. Weasley, while your…enthusiasm is appreciated, I think that Mr. Potter is correct in this regard. I am going to ask you, and I hope that you will agree, to take part in Minerva's detail."

Looking from Dumbledore to his father, Ron seemed to realize that he was defeated, for he finally turned a glowering look at Harry before muttering, "Well, once again I see that Harry gets what he wants while I'm left standing on the sidelines. Must be bloody nice to be so important, huh Harry?" Not waiting to hear Harry's response, he turned on the spot and stomped out of the kitchen.

After Ron's departure, Dumbledore continued his instructions to those remaining in the room, before sending them on their way. Harry had stopped listening, as he was stewing in his own anger and self loathing. Part of him was angry, but at the same time, another part of him knew that Ron was right. If he loved Hermione the way he knew Ron did, nobody would stop him from going to her. After a few more minutes of pondering all he was feeling, he noticed that he and Dumbledore were finally the last two still in the room.

Turning a sympathetic smile to the young man before him, Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder and said, "Things seem bleak now, my young man, but never fear. I'm sure the two of you will see through your differences soon enough."

Looking incredulously at his mentor, Harry said, "How can you be so sure? I mean, I don't know how _he_ can forgive me, when even _I_ don't fully forgive me. I mean, I can't help but wonder if he's right, sir. What if our roles were reversed, would I be able to accept what everyone else was saying, even if I knew they were right? I don't know, sir, I just don't know."

"Harry, I must say that I am very proud of you for what you did. Though you knew it would be hard, you did what you thought was right, and those you lead could ask nothing more of you. I think you will be surprised by Mr. Weasley. Even if he does not agree with your decision, I believe he will still follow it, simply because deep down, whether he even admits it or not, he knows you are thinking of both his _and_ Miss Granger's best interests."

Feeling the need to change the subject, Harry turned his eyes to the floor then asked, "Professor, you said that you had a special task for me?"

Smiling knowingly, Dumbledore removed his hand from Harry's shoulder, walked around the table, and took the seat across from him. "Yes, Harry, I have a very specific task for you. Now, I know that you will not initially take to what I am going to ask you to do, but I must insist that you bear with me. I know that, with the passing of Sirius and with his will having been executed, that you were his primary beneficiary. This, combined with the monetary resources you already possessed, have made you a very rich young man."

Interrupting, Harry question, "Sir, while you're right, I can't see how any of that matters now. Pretty soon, money's not gonna mean very much, is it?"

"Harry that is precisely my point. While gold will not be very important soon, it still is now. We are going to be taking care of hundreds of people for an undetermined amount of time very soon, and we are going to need supplies to do so. I must ask you to use your considerable fortune to take care of this problem for me. Not only that, but I must also ask that this be done as discretely as possible. Now, not only will we need food, but we will also need writing supplies, brooms, potions supplies, etc. Essentially, we will need you to discretely purchase as much as you can from Diagon Alley without raising too many eyebrows in the process."

"Let me see if I get this straight, sir. Of all the possible tasks I could be performing, of everything that needs to be done, you want me to be your _supply clerk_?!?!" It was obvious to Harry that he was being kept out of the way of things. "Why, sir? I mean, first you ask me to lead, then you turn around and shove me out of the way?"

"Nobody is being shoved out of the way, Mr. Potter, in fact, quite the opposite. This is a very important task I am asking of you, possibly one of the most important tasks."

Feeling as though a light bulb just lit up above his head, Harry spat back, "This is about the prophecy, isn't it? You don't want to send me out into and _dangerous_ situations because you think I'll be killed before I fulfill my bloody destiny!"

Seeing the boy's frustration, Dumbledore smiled and calmly replied, "Once again, Mr. Potter, I ask that you bear with me and see that I am asking a very important task of you. We will all be counting on you to succeed in this; in fact, everyone's survival will depend on it. You can take that ask you may, yet I must still insist that you take on this task. Here is a list of everything that will be needed, along with a group of contacts that will help you buy the products you need in bulk without making any noise."

Understanding that he was no longer being asked, Harry begrudgingly took the list and stood from his chair. As he reached the door, Dumbledore addressed him one last time. "Harry, please remember that leading people does not just mean telling them what to do, but also means making hard decisions on their behalf that you know will not be popular, and following through with them if they are necessary."

Letting what Dumbledore said sink in, Harry turned and exited the room without further comment.

* * *

Walking down the hall to the sitting room, Harry's mind was conflicted. He now felt all too well what was going through Ron's mind, as both were seemingly being pushed out of the way. His mind lost its train of thought, however, as he walked through the sitting room door and was immediately greeted by a rather large fist connecting with his left eye, knocking him to the floor.

Standing over his fallen friend, Ron shook his hand a couple times before looking into his open eye menacingly and stating flatly, "I'll work with you, because I understand that everything that's going on is bigger than us. Understand, though, that you and me, we're done. I don't want to see you, or even know that you exist outside of anything work related." He turned slightly, as if to leave, before turning back and saying one more thing. "What hurts the most, ya know, is that if our roles were reversed, not only would I have backed you up in there, but I would have helped you out afterwards, and you know it." With that, he turned and walked up the stairs.

After taking a few moments to collect his thoughts, Harry finally rose and climbed the stairs himself, gingerly testing the tenderness of his eye. 'Gonna be quite the shiner,' he thought as he made his way down the corridor towards Ron's room. As he reached the door, he looked down and saw all his clothes and few possessions piled at his feet, and realization of what this meant finally dawned on him.

'Well, guess I've really screwed things up this time,' he thought to himself before he bent down and collected his things.

* * *

Two days earlier and thousands of miles away, Sarah Templeton was sitting in a bar near the Los Angeles International Airport. It was still early in the afternoon, so she was basically alone in the dark room, but she was alright with that. There were still two hours 'til her flight, and spending them here is as good as spending them anywhere else. 

Besides, she was celebrating, and by God, celebrating demanded alcohol. She had just closed a deal that would move her company into the top three in her field, single-handedly no less. Sure, she had always been known for her ability to make a great presentation, but this success has even the BIG bosses noticing. 'Maybe this will finally earn me that VP position I've only deserved for the last…oh, I don't know…three years!' she thought bitterly.

As she drained her third whiskey sour (not the most lady-like drink, she knew, but hell, in the business world there's no time for lady-like anyway) and was about to ask for another, her attention was diverted to the door as it was opened, brightening the room with the sunshine outside. Watching with a critical eye, she saw a rather tall, lean man, maybe as much as two meters, wearing a fairly sharp business suit. 'Not a bad lookin' bloke,' she thought. 'Too bad I got a flight to catch, or I might just have to get to know him better.

Seeing him look in her direction, she gave a small smile that she hoped would be invitation enough to come take up the seat beside her. 'Even if I can't shag him, it wouldn't hurt to have somebody to talk to,' she thought.

Looking her over, he saw a rather pretty young woman who had obviously had enough to drink to already have her loosened up. Taking her rather obvious invitation, the man sauntered over casually, smiling his most confident smile before tapping her lightly on the shoulder. As she turned, he drawled out in his thickest, most over-exaggerated accent, "Howdy, ma'am. Min' if I pull up a seat at the trough nex' t'ya?"

Smiling coyly, she remarked back, "Well, it doesn't bother me, but you'll have to make sure it's alright with everybody else."

Looking around the empty room, he turned back and chuckled a little before sitting down. "So, your accent…British?"

"Born and raised. South Wales, actually. What about you, could you be from anywhere_other_ than Texas?" She drawled out the last word in a terribly false accent.

"Sure thing, ma'am. Still live there, actually. Only in town for the day. Got me a flight outta here an' back ta Dallas in a couple hours. Name's Tony, by the way. Tony Ivey." He stuck out his hand and shook hers, then turned to the bartender and ordered a double whiskey, straight up.

"I'm actually waiting for a flight myself. Direct to London for me. Right now, I'm celebrating a _very _successful business proposition. Oh, and I'm Sarah, Sarah Templeton."

"Well, Miss Templeton, it's a pleasure ta meet ya, although I'm sorry ta hear that we'll be spendin' so little time together." Moving his hand to her knee rather forwardly, he then said, "I guess we'll just have ta make the most of the time we got, huh?"

Any other time, and Sarah would have been totally turned off by such forwardness, but hell, she was half way to loaded and still feeling great from her business success. 'Fuck it,' she thought, and moved her hand to cover his own. "I guess so."

Suddenly, he jerked his hand away from hers and reached it into the breast pocket of his jacket, retrieving a monogrammed handkerchief and quickly raising it to cover his face, which he turned from hers before sneezing three times in succession. "Sorry for that Miss," he said. "Looks like I mighta caught me a bit of a cold. Excuse me," and he quickly made his way to the men's room.

After freshening himself up and popping a couple cold tablets he found in his briefcase, he walked back to the bar, where he was happy to see that a smiling Sarah Templeton was waiting for him.

"Get everything taken care of?" she asked, in a slightly mocking tone.

"All set. Hope my sneezin' fit hasn't turned ya off too much," he said, replacing his hand on her knee.

Taking his hand in her own once more, she looked deep into his eyes before saying, "Oh, don't worry about me, I've got a very high constitution. Now, I've got," she took a look at her watch, "an hour and forty-five minutes before I absolutely _have_ to be at the airport. Got any ideas how I can spend my time?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes lightly.

"Oh, I can think of a thing or three," he said playfully, then pulled her into a long, deep kiss.

Both felt rather pleased at their good fortune at having found each other, and rather hot at the prospect of what was to come. Little did either of them know that this would be their last sexual encounter, as both would be dead in shortly over two days. Sarah also would never know that she would have the distinction of being the first to bring home the deadly disease that would eventually kill almost all of her countrymen.

* * *

A/N: Well, finally, right? Sorry, but this chapter was really hard to write. I mean, I've had an idea of what I wanted to put here, but I just didn't know how I wanted to word it. Hope you all like it, and I hope that part at the end wasn't too bad. I just wanted to make the disease a little more…personal, remind everyone of you readers that it's coming, ya know? Anyways, give me a review, tell me if you like it or not. The distinction of being this story's very first review is still up for grabs! 

Cheers!!


	5. Far Off Visits and Terrible Truths

DISCLAIMER: I am not profiting from this story in any way, and only the plot is mine in the first place.

POST DATE: November 6, 2007

**CHAPTER 4: Far Off Visits and Terrible Truths**

It was hours before Harry finally fell into a fitful sleep. Tossing and turning almost continuously, he awoke several times from various nightmares, most involving fields of dead corpses as far as the eyes could see, coated in a sheen of sweat and breathing in hard, ragged breaths. He found no relief from his troubles in the world of reality, however; the guilt from his actions the previous night towards his best mate, combined with the guilt he felt for what he knew Voldemort had unleashed on the masses of defenseless muggles would crash down around him, making him feel suffocated.

The fourth time this happened, Harry rolled over to his nightstand, grabbing and looking at his watch, wanting to determine if putting himself through any more torture was even worth it. 'Ughh, 3:47, just early enough that I can't get out of bed without ruining the rest of my bloody day,' he thought. Putting his watch back down, he sat up, straightened his blankets back over his body, rolled over and drifted back into a fitful slumber.

Just minutes after he fell asleep, Harry felt his body awake yet again, though he had not yet opened his eyes. Feeling an incredible amount of frustration, he lifted his fist to slam it into his bed, and became understandably surprised when his knuckles collided with soft earth rather than his mattress. Opening his eyes, he quickly shut them back up, as sunlight burned his widely dilated pupils. After taking a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the bright light, he once again ventured a look at his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer in his room; indeed, he was no longer even inside a house. Instead, his soft bed appeared to have been exchanged for a patch of ground that separated two rows of tall corn stalks.

Rising to his feet, Harry looked up to see a cloudless blue sky, and couldn't shake the feeling that he had been to this place before, even though his mind couldn't figure out quite when or why. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was still clad in his pajamas, and that his feet where quite bare. Peering at his surroundings, he saw that the only thing within his field of vision _not_ sporting an ear of corn was a small smudge of smoke off in the distance. Figuring that he may be able to find some answers from the owner of the fire, he set off, being careful not to step on any sharp or jagged rocks in the process.

After about ten minutes of walking with his head down, Harry started talking quietly to himself, attempting to decipher his current situation. "This has to be a dream. I don't care how real it feels, it just has to be a dream." So wrapped up in his own self-conversation was he that he did not even notice when he passed beyond the last row of corn and began making his way up to what he would soon see as a rather familiar looking small home, with an even more familiar looking old woman perched on her rocking chair, eyeing him contemplatively.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you child, but this ain't no dream, Lord Jesus no," said the old woman.

Almost jumping out of his own skin, Harry let out a small gasp as the quiet around him was interrupted, making him stop in his tracks. Looking first at the house, then around the yard, his eyes finally settled on the old woman, and memories began rapidly floating to him from his subconscious. "I…I know you. I mean, I've seen you before. Your name is…Mother…Alice?" he questioned.

Laughing at his startled response, she finally responded, "No sir, but you're close. M'name is Abigail Freemantle, but folks around these parts just call me Mother Abigail. I'm the oldest person around here, over a hundred, yes sir. But I don't let that slow me down, good Lord no. Why, I still make m'own biscuits!" Harry saw that she finished this last part with a rather proud look on her face.

"Now, I'm not tellin' you what to do or nothin', but you might consider sittin' down, child. It ain't good for you to be carryin' around all that weight on your feet."

Looking around himself for a moment, Harry decided that he must have heard the woman wrong. Just as he was about to ask her to say that last bit again, she smiled and cut him off. "No, child, you heard me right. The weight you carryin' can't be seen by nobody but the good Lord Jesus. But that don't mean it ain't there. It's a right good shame, too, 'cause it's not somethin' you need to be carryin' around, neither. O'course, you can't see that, an' until you do, your jus' gonna keep on carryin' it around wit' you."

Finally feeling like he understood what she was saying, Harry's face took on a stony expression as he crossed his arms and retorted, "Why shouldn't I feel guilty? That…evil, evil man is killing all the muggles all over the world, and there's nothing I or any of my friends can do about it. Why, we're not even trying, though, are we? No, we're just hiding up in that damn house, trying to pretend that the world's not dieing around us!" So livid was he as he finished that small pieces of spit where flying through his clenched teeth.

Setting down the needlework that she had been working on, Abigail grabbed her cane and slowly, painfully, rose out of her rocker, then hobbled over to stand on the steps of the porch, mere feet from her young guest. "Now that's enough of that, child! Did you let that devil be born? Did you? No, child, only God can create a man, an' only he knows why! So stop tryin' to take credit for the Lord's work, it's blaspheme!"

Hearing this surprisingly powerful outburst from such an unlikely source gave Harry pause. Letting the words she spoke roll through his mind like a wave, he finally ducked his head down and softly said, "I'm sorry, Mother Abigail. It's just that…it's just…I don't know what to do!" At this, his head snapped up, and his eyes pleaded with her for guidance. "Everything is going to fall apart so fast, I mean, it's already starting. People are going to be looking for me to lead them, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to tell them. It just seems like every time I make a decision, it's the wrong one, and people get hurt for it." After he finished, he once again hung his head, a tear rolling from his eyes, thinking of Sirius.

Smiling slightly, her face taking on a knowing look, Abigail responded, "When I was jus' a child, no bigger'n you," Harry chuckled slightly, since she was_still_ no bigger than he was, "my Mammy use to teach me how to make m'buscuits. One day, I put in a batch an' then got me a distraction. Well, o'course m'biscuits burnt, an' I started cryin', 'cause I ruined breakfast. Now, seein' the state I was in, Mammy took me aside and told me, 'You can't be cryin' over no spilt milk, child. What's done is done, an' you have to get pas' it or you'll never learn from it.' Well, I heard what she said, an' I marched myself right back to that stove, an' made me another batch o'biscuits, an' by God I ain't never let a batch o'biscuit burn since then!"

Hearing Abigail's conclusion, Harry raised his head and looked her in the eyes. "But, I'm not talking about some silly biscuits, here; I'm talking about people's lives." He wasn't sure what reaction to this he was going to get, but what she _did do_ hadn't even registered as a possibility. She laughed.

"Goodness gracious, child, it don't matter! It's the same point." Seeing his skeptical look, she continued. "If you can't let go of the mistakes you made in the pas', then they're jus' gonna sit on your shoulders forever. But, if you accept your wrongs, an' learn from them, then you won't make them again, will you?"

Not giving him a chance to respond, she quickly changed the subject. "Now, child, we ain't got but hardly any time lef', an' I got some important things to tell you. You already know about the hard times comin', but you need to be ready, 'cause you're gonna have to make some hard choices real soon. Don't worry about them, though, jus' follow what the good Lord puts in your heart, an' you won't go wrong." Before continuing, Harry noticed her face change to a look of pure loathing. "Be careful though, child, 'cause they're rats in the corn, an' the rats is his!"

As though it was happening in rapid motion, a dark cloud suddenly rolled over the sun, blocking the once bright light and making the view considerably darker. Turning his head to look in the direction her eyes were gazing, Harry saw that the ground in the cornfield was covered with rats, and when he looked up, he saw a pair of red, burning eyes deep amongst the stalks, staring at him. Eyes he had seen before on more than one occasion. Suddenly, he found himself becoming extremely uncomfortable, and wished very badly that he was away from this frightening place.

Turning back to Abigail, he saw the look of determination in her eyes as she said, "There ain't no time, child. You got to leave now, but before you do, I need to tell you somethin'. Once the storm passes, you come an' see me, child, you an' all your friends. Right now, I'm in Polk County, Nebraska, but I can't be waitin' long. God done tol' me to get as many of us to safety as possible. Right now, the devil, he don' know where I am, but that ain't gonna las' for long, Lord Jesus no."

Just as he was opening his mouth to respond, Harry got an odd sensation, almost similar to that of a portkey, but not as strong. Suddenly, his surroundings began to fade around him. As she drifted to blackness, Harry heard Mother Abigail say one last time, "Don't forget to come see me, now, an' bring all your friends!"

The next moment, Harry's eyes flew wide open, and he saw that he was once again lying in his own bed at Grimmauld Place, though it would take his mind several more minutes to feel like it had arrived, as well.

* * *

About the same time Harry was making his visit to a Nebraska cornfield, another member of the British magical community, someone he knew quite well, was making a visit of their own. Upon opening his eyes, he too had to shield himself from the brightness of the sun.

'Strange,' he thought, 'this is definitely not where I went to sleep. Must be a dream, though it certainly feels real enough.'

Finally adjusting to the light, he was able to see that, rather than lying in his own bed, he now appeared to be standing in the middle of a muggle blacktop road. Looking all around, he saw that he was apparently surrounded by nothing but desert and dead-looking scrub brush. Waves of heat could be seen radiating in the distance, which cued him in to the fact that, wherever this place was, it was very, _very_ hot.

Suddenly, he heard a bird caw several times, the loud noise startling him enough to nearly make him fall over. Turning around to investigate the source of this annoyance, his eyes were instantly drawn to a large, pitch-black raven, which was situated along a stripe of yellow paint in the middle of the road, no more than ten feet from where he stood. Though he could not quite understand why, the sight of this bird made his blood run cold with fear.

"It's impolite to stare, you know," stated a mocking voice from behind, startling the young man once again. "Nice 'jammies, by the way," he laughed out.

Slowly turning to meet the owner of this voice, he was suddenly filled with a sense of inexplicable dread, as though he knew without a doubt that he was about to die. Beginning to shake slightly, the young man took in the sight before him. He recognized his sudden companion almost immediately; Caucasian, average height, wearing worn cowboy boots, dusty denim pants and a jean jacket. Looking at his face, he could see an almost feral quality, and when the man smiled, it sent a shiver down his spine. No matter how hard he tried, he could not quite make himself look this man in the eyes.

"I-I know who y-you are, or at l-least who you work for. What's your name, and why have you brought me here?" the young man asked, puffing out his chest slightly and praying that he looked more brave than he currently felt.

Laughing for a few minutes, the man finally answered, "Well, well, well, he has a backbone after all! My master told me that you could be counted on as a weakling, but I can see now that you're not afraid of _me_ at _all_, right? Well that's a shame, because," and with suddenness that the young man was wholly unprepared for, the jeans clad man before him disappeared and reappeared mere inches from his face and growled menacingly, "you should be."

Seeing the young man begin to stutter incoherently let the man know that he had garnered his attention. "Shut up!" he said, then backhanded his terrified counterpart across the cheek. After the young man reestablished his stance, the man smiled before continuing, "Good, now that I've got your attention, let's get down to business, shall we?

"To answer your first question, I've been known by many names in many places, although most simply know me as 'The Walking Dude.' Since you and I have become such great friends," he said, wrapping his arm around the young man's shoulders and pulling him in tightly, "you can call me Flagg. Randall Flagg." This last line he said in what any muggle might have recognized as a poor attempt at a Sean Connery imitation.

Though Flagg seemed to be showing quite a sense of humor, the young man felt little like laughing. As far as Flagg was concerned, however, that was perfectly understandable. "Getting to your second question, you've been brought here because you're lucky enough to have very important connections, connections which my master feels would be beneficial to take advantage of. In short, because of who you know, my master wants to use you to accomplish a little…_task_."

Finally finding his voice, the young man asked weakly, "I-I know wh-who y-your m-m-master is! Why w-would I w-want to help h-him?"

Smiling brightly, Flagg answered in an oddly jovial voice, "Well, mainly because if you don't, I'll kill ya! But also, there will be…benefits involved with your having made the correct choice."

"Benefits? What kind of benefits?"

Sounding strangely like a game show host, Flagg said, "Why, I do believe he's interested in what's behind door number one! Let's take a look, shall we? The main benefit is that you'll still be alive, of course, but wait, there's more! Added to your survival will be what you've always sought after, power! More power than you'd ever thought possible! Why, accomplish what my master wishes, and you'll take a place amongst his closest of confidants, and your word will be thunderous amongst the people. That oughta teach all those sniveling do-gooders who've tried to bring you down over the years, right? Play your cards right, and you might even get the opportunity to_personally_ ensure that those who have disrespected you in the past no longer make the same mistake!"

Flagg knew he had him by the lusty spark in his eyes. Rather than push the boy, though, he waited. After a few moments, he heard words that were music to his ears. "This task, is it big?"

"Why, my boy, it's_ooooonnlllyy_ the single most important thing that needs to be done during this entire war! Why, if you complete your mission right, you'll not only be a major help to my master, but you'll even be saving thousands of lives! Witches and wizards everywhere will be clamoring to name a holiday in your honor. Anybody who gazes upon you will do so lovingly, yet also with a certain amount of fear. People will think 'there goes a powerful man, an _important_ man.' Who knows, they might even bow before you. And all you need to do is accept this little, tiny mission I have for you."

The young man, by now not even attempting to hide his hopeful expression, excitedly asked, "What must I do to have all that you just said? Tell me, I'll do anything."

"My boy, you've just made the wisest decision of your young life. For now, though, all that we ask is that you be patient. Keep your eyes and ears open, and listen for any information that we might like to know. When the time is right, we will contact you with the particulars of your assignment. Until then, keep a sharp head about you, and for God's sake, get some new 'jammies, those look like their a hundred years old!"

Laughing heartily as he concluded their meeting, Flagg reached out his hand to shake his companion's. Taking the older man's hand, the young man felt a sudden jolt of electricity flow throughout his body, just before everything faded quickly to black, his last sight being a pair of ominous red eyes. Opening his own eyes, he saw that he was once again in his room, laid out in his own bed.

Remembering the details of his 'dream', a small smile played out across his lips as he thought, 'Finally, I'll get what I deserve.' Looking over to his clock, he saw that it was almost time to get up for the day anyway, so he got out of bed and made for the shower with a noticeable spring to his step.

* * *

Knock, knock, knock.

Moaning groggily, Hermione rolled over and checked her bedside alarm clock. 'Merlin, 6:30? What could _possibly_ be so important at 6:30 in the morning?' she thought to herself.

"Yeah?" was her muffled, groggy response, her head still buried in her pillow.

"Hermione, dear, I'm leaving for the practice. I just wanted you to know that your father has woken up a bit ill this morning and will be staying home from work today." Concluding this statement, she opened her daughter's bedroom door and stepped half way in. "Please be a dear and swing by the local shop and pick up some cold and flu medicine when you get up."

Rolling over and sitting up straight rather suddenly, Hermione asked with a startled expression, "Daddy's sick? Is he alright? Should we get a doctor? Can he-"

Seeing the all too recognizable runaway train of questions erupting from her sometimes paranoid daughter, Caroline Granger quickly interrupted, "Hermione please, he's fine, just a bit under the weather. You know, coughing, sneezing, bit of a fever; normal cold things. A spot of Nyquil and some old fashioned bed rest should have him good as new by tomorrow morning. Do you need any money for the store?"

"No Mum, I've got some pocket money in my purse. Thanks for asking, though," Hermione replied, visibly relaxing and lying back down on her bed.

Smirking slightly as she decided to play a bit, Caroline added, "You know dear, you really shouldn't get yourself so worked up about everything. Why, I hate to see what you'll be like once you and that redheaded boy eventually get married, you may not even let him leave the house for fear that he'll catch a cold. Now, what was his name again, oh, it's so hard to remember, what with how _little_ you talk about him and all…" As she finished, she began tapping her index finger to her chin, staring off in mock deep thought.

"MUUUUM!" yelled the now crimson faced young woman. "I've told you a million times now, _Ronald_ and I are not like that, we're just friends!"

Smiling brightly and walking over to where her daughter was resting, Caroline leaned over and planted a short kiss on her forehead. With a knowing look, she remarked in a tone that implied that she was playing along, "Right, dear. Pardon me, I forgot." Finished with her bit of morning fun, she turned on the spot and headed out the door, leaving a fully awake, though still slightly exacerbated, daughter alone in her room.

A few moments later, Hermione heard the tell-tale clicking of the front door being locked from the outside, and she knew that her mother had left for the day. 'Well, no point in going back to sleep now, might as well get up and put on a spot of breakfast, see if Daddy will eat anything,' she thought.

Stepping out of bed and into her slippers, she quickly retrieved her dressing gown from its hanger on the wall, securely cinched it closed, checked herself in her door-side mirror (huffing mightily at her large frizz of morning bed-hair), then stepped out into the hall and made her way to her parents bedroom.

Seeing that the door was already left partially open, Hermione knocked quietly and stuck her head in, seeing her father rolled on his side facing away from her. "Daddy? How are you feeling? I'm going to make us some breakfast, do you want anything particular?"

Rolling over, Hermione immediately noticed the signs of the flu, from his pasty, clammy skin, to the dark circles under his eyes. Opening his mouth, she noticed with some dissatisfaction that he was prematurely interrupted by a rather nasty coughing spell. Finally regaining control, he smiled and replied, "Oh, 'Mione, you Mum told me she'd ask you to look in on me. Don't worry about you're old Dad, though, I really cough feel cough, cough fine."

Walking fully into the room, she stopped just short of the bed and placed her hands on her hips, her face changing from concern to determination. "Don't you go trying to act all tough with me, mister. It is quite obvious that you _are not_ feeling fine at all. Now, I'll ask you again, do you want anything particular for breakfast?"

If he listened closely, Edward Granger was positive that he would hear the light tapping of her foot as she waited. Smiling more inwardly than outwardly, he rolled on his back, interlocked his fingers behind his head and said, "My, my, where would I be without the women in my life? How could I possibly survive the craziness that surrounds us all?"

Knowing she was being made fun of, Hermione smirked and lightly shoved her father's elbow, then reached out and placed her palm on her father's forehead. "Indeed, Daddy, indeed. Oh my, you really do feel quite warm. After I get you fed, I think I'll just make a quick trip down to the corner shop and pick up some medicine." Smiling brightly, she finished, "You know, the really _nasty_ tasting type you and Mum used to make me take."

"Yuck. How can you possibly think of taking advantage of my lowly state to exact revenge, I ask you? And here I thought that you loved me." Hearing her laughter, he finished by adding, "Now, that's the smiling beauty I know and love. To answer your question, I think I'll just keep it light this morning, maybe just some toast, orange juice and a banana. I suppose the vitamins will to me good. Oh, and maybe a couple aspirin as well. I think all this coughing is giving me a headache."

"Alright, Daddy." Looking around the room, she added, "Do you want me to set up a blanket and pillow for you on the couch downstairs, so you can watch the telly?"

"Yes, that would be very nice. I think I'll make my way there while you're preparing the food. Thank you, dear."

"It's no problem, Daddy; I just want to make sure you get better. I'll see you downstairs," she said, then turned and left the room.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she walked into the family room carrying a tray laden with a glass of juice, a peeled, sliced banana, two pieces of toast, a dish of butter and marmalade, two aspirins and a mug of coffee. "Here you go. I'll just set this down on the coffee table."

Setting the tray down and looking up at the telly, she saw that her father was flipping from channel to channel rather rapidly, barely taking the time to see what was on. "What are you looking for, Daddy?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing I suppose. I mean, yesterday there was some sort of commotion going on over in America, but it must not have been too big a deal, 'cause nobody seems to be talking about it now. Oh well, no news is good news, I suppose. 'Mione, are you alright? You seem a bit startled," he said, taking in her suddenly rigid stance and pale, quiet demeanor.

"Oh Daddy, don't be silly," she replied, quickly putting a false smile on her face. In truth, she felt terrified to find out that something was going on in America, but she didn't want to frighten her father, so she kept her fears to herself.

Deciding to leave the room while she still had the composure to do so, she quietly muttered, "I'm going to take a shower and head off to the market," before turning and walking up the staircase. Once she was securely in the loo with the door locked, she slowly let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. Trying to steady her own nerves, she turned on the hot water at the sink, cupping and filling her hands and splashing the hot liquid over her face.

"Pull yourself together, damn it! You don't even know what he was talking about. For all you know, it was some sort of political issue or some such." Though she was desperately clinging to her very sensible view point, more than a small part of her couldn't help but play the events of her last and only Order meeting over again and again in her mind. Deciding that she was going to drive herself crazy if she kept thinking about such things, she pushed all thoughts from her mind, turned on the shower, and stood for over fifteen minutes, just letting the hot water roll over her neck and shoulders.

* * *

A little over an hour later, a cleaned and quite refreshed Hermione opened the front door to her family home, exiting and shouting out, "I'm leaving now, I'll be back in twenty minutes," then locked the door and turned to begin her trek to the corner shop, three blocks down the street.

As she took a glance around the neighborhood, she noticed that her next door neighbor's car was still parked in their drive. 'That's odd,' she thought. 'Normally, Dr. Swanson leaves even earlier than Mum and Dad. Hope he hasn't caught whatever Daddy's got. He was fine when I saw the two of them talking over the fence in the garden last night, though.' Finishing this thought, she turned and left up the street, not paying this another thought.

After a block and a half, Hermione glanced to her left and saw her neighborhood park, strangely devoid of children, although it was still rather early. Though that particular patch of grass, trees and bushes served as a playground for the children of her neighborhood, she never actually spent much time there; most of her childhood was spent indoors, what with two working parents and all. Lost in her thoughts, her mind barely registered the billow of robes coming from a nearby bush. Instinctively, she whipped out her wand and aimed it at the magical intruder.

Raising his hands in the air, he quickly offered, "I surrender, I surrender!" while smiling brightly.

"Professor Lupin!" she near yelled, lowering her wand and running towards her favorite former teacher. Reaching his location, she flung her arms around his chest and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Oh, I was so worried! I'm so glad to see you've made it back from America. Tell me, how was your trip? Oh, I was just on my way to the market, care to walk with me?"

Patting her on the shoulder lightly before she released her embrace, Remus nodded and followed his friend along the path up the street. Searching for the right words, he finally said, "Well, Hermione, first of all I had really hoped that the lot of you would have started calling me Remus by now. And to answer your question, my trip to America was…informational."

Noticing the care with which he chose his words, Hermione decided that she would wait to see if he would elaborate further on his own before she attempted to push him for information. The rest of their trip to the market was filled with small chatter. It wasn't until they had returned from the market to the park that Hermione finally decided to question her walking companion.

"Remus? I know you didn't just come here to chit-chat. If you're here, then that probably means something is indeed wrong as we all fear. So, I suppose we can continue to beat around the bush for another hour or so, or we can just get down to business. Which do you prefer?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

With a sad smile and a deep sigh, he paused for a few seconds before responding, "You know, you're really too smart for your own good, Hermione. Why don't we take a seat on that bench over there, and I'll bring you up to date." Placing a hand on her shoulder blades, he walked her to the bench and the two sat down side-by-side.

Over the next thirty minutes, Remus recounted all the information that had been put out in the meeting. By the time he finished, Hermione's skin tone had changed from lightly tanned to pasty white, and her eyes had grown to the size of saucers. Her hands began shaking terribly, while her breathing had become shallow and rapid. Though the summer temperature was becoming rather warm, she was feeling quite cold at the moment, as though her blood had chosen this particular moment to stop circulating. Indeed, anyone who saw her without knowing the circumstances might have thought she had just been scared to within an inch of her life.

When Remus finished his tale, a deep silence overtook the two until Hermione finally asked, "So, the symptoms, you're sure they're like the flu?"

"Yes, though they progress much more rapidly, and the end result is much more deadly. Why do you ask?"

Averting her gaze, Hermione quietly muttered, "Oh, no reason."

Though she attempted to hide it, it was obvious she was withholding something. "Hermione, if you know anything, no matter how small, you know we need to know what it is."

"Oh, it's nothing, really. It's just that, well, you noticed I was buying cold medicine at the store. Well, I mean it's nothing serious, but my Dad's come down with a bit of a cold this morning. Just simple stuff, you know, some light coughing, sneezing, that sort of thing. Do you think, I mean, do you suppose it's possible…"

Seeing the pain in the girl's eyes, Remus smiled sympathetically before responding, "Now, now, there's no need to jump to conclusions. As I said in the meeting, we think there's a good chance that all people with magic in their blood, even those with too little to be able to use it properly, will prove to be immune. Now, there's a fairly decent chance that your parents have at least a small amount of magic in their blood. That's why Professor Dumbledore has taught those of us who are visiting with muggle born students a spell that will detect if any magic is present within a person. Now, I'm supposed to use this spell, however, since they're _your_ parents and since I know you're more than capable of casting it yourself, I will just teach you and you can tell for yourself, alright?"

Seeing her nod her approval, he continued. "Now, the spell is quite simple. You simply flow your wand like so, from the person's head to their feet, while chanting 'Magus Aperio'. If any blue sparks shoot from the tip of your wand, then magic is present in the blood. Here, let me demonstrate." With this, he stood, waved his wand as he had shown her and chanted the spell while aiming at her. Immediately, a vast mass of blue sparks began firing from the end of his wand, vanishing no more than a foot later.

"Now, you try," he said. She of course performed the spell perfectly on the first try.

Not being able to think of any other information, Remus decided to finally breach the most difficult task on his list. "Erm, Hermione, there is one last order of business. Part of my duty by being here is to ensure that you are safe, and to attempt to convince you to return to the castle with me. Now I know-" He would get no further.

Her face looking slightly incredulous, she interrupted, "Are you joking, or just mad? There is _absolutely_ no way that I am leaving my family! They need me now, more than ever!" Her expression becoming angry and bitter, she continued. "Besides, though you may be _the great Professor Lupin_, you are not without fault, you know. Even if my Da- I mean if one of my parents were to get sick, they might still beat it. You don't know, and DON'T THINK I'M JUST GOING TO TAKE YOUR WORD FOR IT!!" She finished her rant in a shout. Luckily, the park still had few occupants.

Waiting for her to finish, Remus finally bowed his head slightly before saying, "I didn't suppose there was a chance of you coming along anyways. But it is part of my detail, and besides, I promised Ron I would try." Though he would not admit it out loud, he very much hoped that the mention of Mr. Weasley would calm her down. His hopes were indeed answered.

"Oh, Ron asked? Is he, I mean, are all the Weasley's…"

"He's fine, Hermione, though a little upset that he was not allowed to come see you himself," he answered, her question remaining unasked.

"Oh, well that was probably the smart thing. He is rather impulsive, after all, I wouldn't-er, that is to say, nobody would want him to do something foolish and end up paying for it. It's better that he just stay at the castle." Whispering to herself, Remus barely heard her finish, "Though I do miss him terribly."

Deciding that it was time for this meeting to finish, Remus reached into his pocket and retrieved two items. Seeing what was in his hand, Hermione looked questioningly at an ordinary looking pencil and pin. "I don't suppose those are just for writing and holding up notes?"

"Like I said before, you are too smart. No, the pencil is actually a portkey." Setting the pencil on the bench he continued, "The trigger word is Hogwarts, and it can transport as many magical persons as can touch it. The pin is for informational purposes. Just tack it up anywhere in your house, and it will detect and keep us informed as to any magical persons residing in your home. Any questions?" Seeing her shake her head no, he stood to his feet.

"Well, I guess I should be on my way then. Please, take care of yourself, and for Merlin's sake, keep that portkey on you _at all times_. Take care," and with that, he started to turn to the bush so that he could apparate.

Suddenly, Hermione flung herself into the surprised werewolf's arms, once again hugging him tight. "Oh Remus, I'm so frightened! What are we all going to do?" she cried.

Patting her shoulder with one hand and running his other along her hair, he replied in a soothing voice, "There, there. There's no reason to get overly upset, Hermione. What will be, will be, and there's nothing any of us can do to stop it. You just need to remember that, even though times are going to become tough, there's always something left to fight for. So, I want you to promise me that you'll never stop fighting, alright?"

Sniffing slightly, she remarked, "A-alright, I promise. Oh, and Remus? I-I hate to ask, but can you deliver a message for me?" Pulling back and seeing him nod, she continued. "Please tell Ron that…I'm sorry. Tell him I'm sorry I didn't come back, but that he knows I can't leave my family. Please tell him…not to be mad with me." She mumbled this last part, staring fixedly at her shoes.

Using his hand to lift her chin so that she was looking him in the eye, Remus said, "No, Hermione, I'll not tell him you're sorry. You and I both know I won't have to. True, he may be upset at first, but there is nobody on this earth that understands loyalty to loved ones more than a Weasley, and we both know it. Now, you best get on back home, or your father will become worried." Deciding not to drag things on any further, he quickly turned from her, walked behind the bush and apparated to his next location, leaving the girl standing alone in her thoughts.

* * *

After five minutes of pondering, Hermione walked back to her home, unlocked the door and slipped inside. Shortly after entering, she was greeted in a less than friendly manner. "Where have you been? cough You said you would be twenty minutes; it's been nearly an hour! cough"

"Sorry Daddy," she said, then decided to attempt to lighten the mood. She just couldn't deal with her father being mad at her right now. "They didn't have the _really nasty_ stuff at the corner store, so I decided to walk a little further to the market." She pulled the bottle from the bag and jiggled it slightly with her fingertips, while smiling what she hoped was a bright smile.

It must have worked, because his frown disappeared from his face almost immediately. Taking the bottle from her, he quickly opened it up, took a swig, and then replaced the cap. Grimacing heavily he said, "Why, thank you 'Mione, for thinking of _my best interests_." Suddenly smirking, he finished, "This will of course be remembered the next time you get sick."

She chuckled lightly and took a seat in the chair opposite the couch, waiting patiently for the medicine to affect him. She did not have to wait long, as he was snoring softly within fifteen minutes.

Standing and moving next to him, she pulled out her wand and, while breathing somewhat raggedly, moved the tip along the length of his body and muttering, "Magus Aperio." Her heart quite thoroughly ripped in half, however, as she failed to see a single blue spark.

* * *

A/N: My God, I know, it's been sooooo long, right? Well, all I can tell you is that unfortunately, I'm not getting paid to write this story, and therefore, often life gets in the way. Anyways, I hope you all liked this chapter. I know this story is starting out kinda slowly, but you'll just have to bear with me. All you who've read The Stand know that this story starts out slowly, but quickly spirals out of control. Trust me, in the next couple of chapters, things are gonna start getting worse really fast. Thanks for the reviews (Yeay! I finally got some!). To answer your question, BlindJedi, I'm sorry to tell you that there will indeed be some bits of Harry/Ginny shipping in this story. I really hope this doesn't turn you off from reading it, and if it makes you feel any better, any ships but one in this story will barely get a mention here and there. The only reason Ron/Hermione get a bit of a spotlight is because it will be central to the story, at least in the early goings. Well, that does it for me, as always, I beg for your reviews!

Cheers!!


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